Unicorn Valley 2: Stallion’s Heart
Lena Austin

  

 All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2004 by Lena Austin

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 ISBN 1-59596-043-0
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Editor: Katriena Knights
Cover Artist: Angela Knight

  



 This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  

  

  

 Chapter One

  

 “Mother!”

 Shadow leapt to his feet, shaking his head. He looked around wildly, but nothing except a mild morning breeze stirred in the peaceful glade he’d hidden in.

 “Gods, what a nightmare!” He’d dreamt he’d been walking in his human form beside his beloved foster mother as she went about her morning stroll in her garden. He hadn’t escorted her in ages, he realized. Without warning, she’d dropped the basket in which she’d been gathering flowers, and dropped to her knees with an oddly slack look on her lined face. When she’d fallen face-first into the dark earth, Shadow had reached for her, yelling the alarm. Then he’d awakened.

 Without further consideration, Shadow made a decision. He shook his forelock out of his eyes and teleported. He had to know if his dream was merely that. As soon as his hooves hit solid ground again, he knew it was no dream. Healers boiled out of the cavern complex that once was his childhood home and now served as a healing facility for the whole Valley.

 He galloped up the short rise, not bothering to change out of his equine form. Just as he’d dreamt, Kella lay there in the dirt, her normally animated face blank. The only change was that his foster brother, Brolly, knelt beside her, his hands on her forehead.

 His face fierce with concentration, Brolly barely glanced up. “Brainstorm.” Brolly’s forehead beaded with sweat. “Thank all the gods I heard you, Horseface. Now give me all the power you’ve got and shut up.”

 Shadow didn’t question further, even though he hadn’t mind spoken a thing. He fed Brolly a steady stream of magic, knowing Brolly’s healing energies were limited without it.

 Another healer shouldered past Shadow to kneel on the other side of Kella’s head and add her power to Brolly’s. “Good catch, Shadow. Thanks for yelling and waking us up.”

 It served no purpose to tell them he’d not been here to shout. “No problem, Mina.”

 “Got it!” Brolly’s exultant shout rang out. “Blasted blood clots.” He looked down affectionately at the unconscious woman who’d raised them all. “You Vampires and your blood issues.”

 Mina removed her hands as Kella stirred feebly. “Where’s that damned litter?”

 Shadow didn’t move or stop feeding Brolly power until Brolly’s fingers slowly left Kella’s temples. He twitched one ear back at the sound of running feet behind him and stepped carefully over his mother’s precious flowers. If he trampled one, he’d be in serious trouble when she recovered.

 Brolly left Mina to supervise Kella being lifted onto the litter and hopped over a small bush to join Shadow out of the way. Shadow changed into human form and caught Brolly as the healer swayed and turned white.

 “Overextended yourself, didn’t you, Furball?” Shadow knew of old, Brolly would now have a serious headache and be sensitive to sound, so he lowered his voice to the softest of whispers.

 “Shaddup, Hayburner. Just get me inside.” Brolly’s knees buckled.

 Shadow easily picked up his burly brother. “That, I can do.” He strode toward the cavern entrance and dodged healers running everywhere.

 “And no funny magic tricks to make me sleep, you silver-horned virgin-chaser.”

 Shadow chuckled at the old joke between them about the legends of how Unicorns could be lured to their deaths using human virgins. “I don’t need magic, Brolly. You’re out on your feet. I assume you’re in our old room in the back.”

 Brolly nodded, then winced as the movement jarred his aching head. “Stop carrying me like I’m one of your feminine conquests. Put me the hell down. Someone has got to tell Father.”

 Shadow kicked open the door that led to the bedroom he’d shared for years with Brolly and Lionel when they’d been small. The three beds had been replaced by one giant sybaritic bed, though the clothes press had been Brolly’s all along. There were still teeth marks on the legs. “Whoa, brother mine! Made yourself at home, hmm?”

 He lit the lamp with a wisp of magic, and turned the shield around so Brolly stopped wincing. Shadow put him on his feet and let Brolly have the dignity of climbing into bed on his own power.

 “Where else am I going to live, unless it’s Pack Lands?”

 Shadow didn’t bother to answer that rhetorical question. Brolly was not an outcast, just a lone wolf by choice. “I’ll tell Father, Brolly. I’m the only one who would dare interrupt a Council meeting anyway.”

 “Then why were you here instead of at the Council playing dutiful Herd Stallion in training?” Brolly’s words were slurred, and they ended in a snore. Brolly was sprawled across the bed and likely to remain there for hours.

 “I’ll tell you sometime, Furface, when you aren’t overextended and dealing with a power drain headache. I’m going to find Father. Then I’m going to camp out here until I know Mother is well again.” Shadow softly shut the door and teleported away.

  

 Shadow arrived at the Unicorn Council’s favorite meadow in time to hear a disrespectful shout aimed at the Herd Stallion. “It’s our way!” The enraged black stallion stood nearly horn-to-horn with the calm blue and silver Stallion who had reigned for nearly three hundred years.

 Those who watched or grazed nearby gasped in outrage at the discourtesy shown the venerable ruler of the Valley. There were very few who didn’t respect Tanne and the peaceful coexistence between the races he’d created.

 Several of the younger stallions, Shadow included, stood poised and ready to mete out whatever justice the Stallion deemed fit. Several of those on the Council rose from their positions in the semicircle, readying spells or weapons.

 Shadow knew Tanne Brae better than most, but even he was surprised when the Stallion answered the shout cheerfully. “Right you are, Durham! There’s no need to get upset about it, you know. I fully expect there to be challenge fights against my successor when I retire. You young fellows certainly couldn’t let such an opportunity pass you by, now could you?”

 Ah, so that was what this was about. The younger and more rebellious stallions had finally recognized that Tanne was getting up in years. Or, perhaps more likely, they’d taken this long to get their courage up. Shadow chuckled to himself and trotted forward. “Excuse me, Father, my apologies for interrupting. May I have a word with you?”

 “Since you don’t interrupt me without good reason, you are forgiven, Shadow.” He turned to those waiting their turn and courteously tipped his horn. “I shall return as quickly as I can.”

 They moved to a place out of hearing but still within sight of the Herd and Council. The Council, well able to manage without the Stallion in most cases, continued its business. Durham defiantly stood in the circle as if to say, “I am not finished.”

 When Tanne heard his beloved mate had suffered a brainstorm, he teleported without a word. Shadow had expected that, and trotted back to the Council circle. He took his father’s place, as he had done many times.

 “I hope you will forgive, councilors. Tanne’s mate is very ill.” After the councilors had expressed their wishes for Kella’s safe healing, Shadow caught the concerned look on the face of one, Councilor Le-An. He imagined Le-An was very anxious for the session to end to get to the bedside vigil.

 Durham pranced in place, his black and white tail switching in agitation. As soon as he saw Shadow’s attention was on him, his temper burst forth. “I will not accept this! The Stallion cannot simply choose his replacement. That is not how things are done!” Durham looked at Shadow with contempt.

 The son of the previous Herd Stallion, Durham had used his position to his advantage when his corrupt father had been alive, and had lost it all the day Talamar’s sins had come home to graze in his father’s little kingdom. Shadow returned his stare with cool aplomb. Durham had bullied anyone he’d considered weak or vulnerable since he’d been born. It was therefore unsurprising that Durham would feel he had nothing to fear from the little colt he’d picked on and abused so long ago. He couldn’t seem to understand Shadow wasn’t that shy, unwanted little orphan anymore.

 “Tradition is all it is, Durham,” the Elf Lord Arion admonished. “You Unicorns never bothered to write anything down, and --”

 Durham snorted. “What would be the point?”

 Arion closed his eyes and visibly sought for patience. “Exactly what is happening right now. Undoubtedly, in the long history of Unicorns, there have been occasions where a successor was chosen, rather than winning by challenge.”

 The tall, handsome Elf disapproved of violence, as Shadow well knew, but it was a measure of the respect he held for the Unicorns that he kept his tone friendly. “However, because you do not write anything down or keep any records whatsoever, you no longer remember these precedents.”

 Le-An rose to her feet and waited to be acknowledged. When Shadow had nodded, she spoke. However, she also kept an eye on the black stallion still dancing with impatience in the center of the circle. “I must agree with Lord Arion. It is time to consider what may be in the historical records of other races. Perhaps they have been a bit more diligent in keeping accountings of past events.” She leaned forward earnestly, her brown eyes serious. “I urge you to consider sending a representative to the other races to check for a precedent in which they may have seen and recorded a time when the Unicorns acquired a leader by some method other than challenge fights.” She shrugged. “What can it hurt?”

 Durham could not contain himself any longer. “That will take time. You’re merely delaying things. I see nothing wrong with tradition. I want this issue settled right now.” He snorted contemptuously. “I see no reason to involve other races.”

 Shadow could hear clearly the word he did not say aloud. What Durham had definitely wanted to say was, ‘other inferior races,’ but that would arouse the ire of the entire Council. However, the point was moot. “Are you intending to challenge the present Herd Stallion? Or are you arguing an event that may not happen for many years? What is your point in bringing this up at this time?”

 Durham was taken aback by the dangerous tone in Shadow’s public mind voice, but he did not back down. “Come now! Surely you starry-eyed idealists can see that the Herd Stallion grows old.”

 Shadow chose to ignore the mild insult. Durham’s mind voice turned oily and unctuous. “This issue should be settled before our venerable and respected Herd Stallion even begins to think about retiring. There will be enough chaos to deal with at that time without having to go search for precedents elsewhere. Surely you can see that.”

 Councilor Asa, a pretty female Harpy, jumped from her perch to the podium directly in front of her and awaited acknowledgment. She nodded in Durham’s direction. “As much as I disagree with this stallion’s ambitious and rude motives, he does have a point, and I’m not referring to the one on his forehead.” After the appreciative chuckles had died, she bowed and continued. “If such a precedent can be found, it would mean a speedier and more peaceful transition in the leadership of the Valley. It would be beneficial for all to settle the issue now.”

 Many of the other councilors nodded their heads. There seemed to be no dissenting vote. To be sure, Shadow asked the traditional question. “Are there any opposed to this idea of researching precedent for a peaceful transition?” There were none. “So noted.”

 Again, Le-An stood. “The question now becomes, who shall we send and where?”

 The entire Council jumped to their feet, or whatever appendage they used, to signal the wish to speak. It took a few moments for the babble to settle down. Durham stood smugly in the center, having achieved the outcome he desired, which was to throw the Council into chaos. It was an old trick of his to cause others to argue and become enemies over obscure and unnecessary things.

 Shadow shook his mane. He was not about to allow Durham the chance to get his way simply because it would stop all argument. He whickered to get the Council’s attention. “It’s very simple. There are only two races in the Valley likely to have kept records, and which have the hands to do so. Without meaning insult to our councilor of the Vampires,” he tipped his horn courteously to Lady Jeanette, “I think it unlikely that their records extend past their entrance into the Valley. Therefore, it is likely that the Elves are the only race who might have the historical data we seek.” Shadow prayed briefly he was right. Vampires could be somewhat touchy about being the latest immigrants.

 The Vampire councilor politely raised her hand. “I am afraid you are correct, Shadow. As the high priestess, I am well aware of the contents of our archives. Nothing goes back past 700 years. All of our records before that were lost in the emigration. I regret such a loss, but there is little I can do to change it.”

 Though all who had been through those terrible times were now dead and gone, she seemed to take it personally that no records existed.

 Shadow looked at Lord Arion questioningly. Lord Arion stood and leaned forward on his podium. “It is true, we have extensive records. However, it is inadvisable for me to be involved. I don’t speak Unicorn, and there is a possibility that some of our records could be written in that language. I am not even sure many Unicorns can read or write. It is becoming a lost art.” He glanced at Durham, who looked affronted, but shook his head.

 “I speak and read both modern and ancient Unicorn.” Shadow tried to remain calm when he secretly lusted to delve into what was likely a treasure trove of books and scrolls. Legend had it that the Elves had transported their entire collection of libraries and archives with them when the Valley was formed.

 Durham tried to protest, but was overruled and admonished for being out of line. He had no vote, and was ordered to keep his opinions to himself or take it up with his representative.

 It was quickly voted that Shadow would visit the reclusive Elven historian to search for a precedent. Shadow held his tail still, refusing to let anyone guess about the extent of his secret vice of reading books. He was so happy, he could have made a fool of himself.

 Le-An waved her arms in a shooing motion and laughed. “It is not as if the Council cannot handle business without a Unicorn presiding for a short time. We will mind call if we have need.” She marched over and shoved him. “Go visit your mother’s bedside for a few hours and tell your father what is going on. Then go research.” Shadow blessed her.

 She then stomped over to Durham and planted her hands on her hips. “Why are you still here? Your business is concluded and others wait. You’ll get your answer soon enough.” She pointed firmly outside the Council circle.

 It was worth every bit of abuse Shadow had ever suffered to see Durham so firmly dismissed. He forced himself not to laugh and trotted off to report to his father.

  

 Tanne nodded thoughtfully when he heard the Council’s decision. “I don’t have to like it, but I am forced to agree.” His eyes returned to the quiet form of his mate lying in the bed they had shared for over 300 years. “Should the worst befall us, I cannot guarantee that I will have the heart to continue.”

 Such a flat statement shook Shadow to his core. “Don’t say that, Father. She must get better. She must!”

 Tanne sighed. “I want it too, son. However, your mother’s over 600 years old, and that is a good lifespan for a Vampire. I’ve always wanted to believe the magic she uses so casually would make her live longer. Yet it has always been in the back of our minds that Unicorns live longer than Vampires. She’s dying, son.” His voice quavered. “I don’t want to go on without her. Can you understand that?” Tanne turned pleading eyes to his son before turning back.

 Shadow had always wondered what would break the spirit of a stallion who had fought prejudice and exile to win the right to live with the mate of his choice. He should have known.

 “For the past 300 years, I have watched how you both love one another. How could I not understand?” Shadow watched his father stroke the limp, white hand of the only mother he could clearly remember. “Take care of her, Father. I’ll find a way to keep all that you have built intact, no matter what happens.”

  

  

  

 Chapter Two

  

 The loud pounding on her door jerked Chantrea out of her research on Harpy migration patterns. She wiped at the spill of ink on her parchment and cursed fluently.

 “One moment! One moment!” Chantrea muttered imprecations at having her peace and quiet disturbed. Wiping her ink-stained fingers on her tunic, she went to open the door, intending to give whoever was there a piece of her mind. It was long past the hour for courteous visitors, even for the historian of the Elves.

 Instead of finding herself looking down on a Dwarf, or any of the other creatures known for frequenting the late night, she stared into a wide expanse of gray, silk-clad chest. Her eyebrows shot to her hairline as her gaze traveled up to meet equally gray eyes. The handsome Unicorn smiled and bowed. Chantrea berated herself. All Unicorns were handsome creatures, so there was no need to stand there with her mouth hanging open.

 “My apologies for calling upon you so late in the evening, Historian. My name is Shadow, and I have come seeking your services.”

 The heir to the Herd Stallion had a beautiful voice. Belatedly remembering her manners, Chantrea stepped back and allowed him to enter her home. “You are most welcome, Prince Shadow. May I offer you some tea?”

 “Thank you. If you have a strong brew, I would be grateful.”

 Chantrea looked fully into his face and noted the dark circles beneath his eyes. She felt pity then, for she knew intimately how the burdens of royal duty could cause more than just dark circles. She also knew very well how those burdened with royal office needed to be treated. “I have something you will find effective, Your Royal Highness.” She swept over to her fire and threw in a handful of herbs she herself used when she needed to remain alert.

 “Could I ask a favor of you, Historian?”

 “Certainly, Your Royal Highness.” Chantrea gestured to a chair.

 “Please just call me Shadow.” He sat in the chair she indicated, moving as wearily as her royal father did when he visited.

 “Of course.” Chantrea dimpled a smile at him. “Do you take sweetening or cream in your tea, Shadow?”

 “Just honey, if you please.”

 When they were both settled with a mug of tea, Chantrea waited patiently for Shadow to explain the reason for his visit.

 Instead of coming directly to the point, Shadow looked with frank longing at her rows of bookshelves. “You are blessed with many books. I envy you.”

 He couldn’t have given her a better compliment. Chantrea flipped her braid over her shoulder. “Thank you, very much. Now, how may I help you?” As long as he didn’t ask her to attend her father’s court, she’d be willing to do anything. Well, almost anything.

 He jerked his gaze back to her. “Forgive me. I have need of your aid in researching Unicorn history. I am looking for instances where the position of Herd Stallion was attained without the use of challenge fights.”

 At first, Chantrea felt her eyes light up at the idea of such a wonderful opportunity, but she couldn’t help but be disappointed that Shadow wanted to find a way out of the traditional challenge fights. He didn’t look like a coward.

 Shadow smiled gently. “My father may retire soon, and the Council wishes this transition to be smooth and peaceful. They feel it should not be decided by combat when there is no need. In addition, the younger stallions grow restless. Father feels it might be wise to concede the position before he grows so weak that his first challenger, however unworthy, could best him.”

 Chantrea tilted her nose in the air and pretended the disdain all Elves felt for combat. “It is true that, historically, the Stallion protects the herd from harm, but there’s no need for violence when the Valley is at peace.”

 Shadow sipped his tea with all the aplomb of her brothers at high table. “On the surface, I might agree with you. However, there have been times when the Stallion did have to fight. I personally feel that there’s no harm in proving the ability to do so, but it should not be the prime consideration.”

 She eyed his muscular frame from under her eyelashes. There could be no doubt he was strong enough. “So, the Council sends you to do the research? It makes you look bad, you know.” It was best to be honest and forthright. Besides, he made her normally spacious tree home seem crowded. It would be better to get him to leave, and she’d do the work alone.

 “I speak and read ancient Unicorn. Lord Arion thought it might be necessary to do some translation.” His lips quirked into a half-smile.

 Her uncle suggested this? Chantrea felt her brows rise, as well as her estimation of Shadow’s intelligence. “I see.”

 Shadow looked again at all her books. “Where do we begin?”

 She sniffed. “Not here. This is my personal collection. We’ll have to go to my archives.” She rose from her chair. “It will be dark in there.” She knew Unicorns did not normally like dark, enclosed places.

 He stood, his silvery hair nearly brushing the ceiling. “I can make a mage light, if you wish.”

 “I have my own, thank you.” She put the mugs by the fire to keep them warm, and strode toward the door leading to her archives.

 * * *

 Shadow followed the Elven lady into the tunnel and tried not to smile or look too eagerly at the books. She was not only a treat to look at, but also learned enough to argue when she knew she was right. Her hair was even whiter than his, and the tip of her impressive braid threatened to brush the floor. The pink tunic, even ink-stained, made her eyes a startling green. She looked like one of the confections his mother made for special occasions.

 Shadow told himself to behave and watch his manners carefully. Her tunic might be dusty and blotched with ink, but she walked and talked like Elven nobility. No matter how much his fingers itched to trace those pointed ears and find out if it was true that Elven ears were sensitive, he should keep his hands to himself. “Keep your mind on the task,” he whispered to himself.

 Chantrea stopped and turned around abruptly. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

 Cursing himself for forgetting how sensitive those sexy ears were, Shadow cleared his throat. “Forgive me, Historian. I must confess your beauty distracts me. I was telling myself to keep my mind on my task.”

 Her eyes turned appraising. “Well, that’s the first time anyone has ever said my beauty was a distraction.” Her lips twitched. “My name is Chantrea, and I’ll call it a compliment. However, we have better things to do than admire each other’s beauty. Here in the Valley, everyone has beauty. It has lost its value.” She turned and made her way into a large cavern.

 Shadow chuckled at the truth of that statement. Beauty had indeed lost its value when all could shape shift into their own personal ideal. The measure of what appealed then became the mind and soul of the individual. What was more, the female in front of him was becoming increasingly attractive because of her mind. He kept the ‘I’m in trouble’ purely internal. A female who uttered such profound statements and who owned so many books would be nearly irresistible to him, and he knew it.

 Chantrea walked through the main aisle in near darkness with a surety he did not possess. He could hear her footsteps recede, then stop. He heard her call out in Elven a word that meant “Light.” Shadow shut his eyes just in time to prevent the mage lights from temporarily blinding him.

 He cautiously opened his eyes, allowing them to adjust to the now brightly lit cavern. Shadow gasped in astonishment and was drawn to where Chantrea stood. “By all the gods! Is this a salt cavern?” The walls were sparkling white.

 Chantrea grinned proudly. “Indeed it is! The salt preserves the books by keeping the cavern cool and dry. The Dwarves made it, mining for salt. When there was little left, they gave it to me.”

 Shadow wandered the nearest aisle, where salt formations comprised the main structure of the shelves. “I’m in awe. There must be hundreds of these shelves.”

 “Yes, there are 327, to be precise. However, you are in the wrong section. That’s Elven history. Let’s go over there.” She pointed to a row of shelves across the cavern. “If we are looking before the creation of this Valley, that is.”

 Shadow followed her. “We are indeed!”

 Chantrea disappeared into one of the rows. Her voice floated back. “I’m sure it will be in this aisle, if there is any record at all.”

 Shadow rounded the corner, and stopped dead in his tracks. The aisle where Chantrea had gone was empty. “Where are you?”

 “Up here! I’ll be down in a moment.” He looked up, and his jaw dropped. Fluttering on pink and silver fairy wings, Chantrea pulled out three scrolls. “Here! Catch!” She dropped one to him with seeming carelessness.

 Shadow caught it with a small cry of alarm. Scrolls were usually so fragile, he was afraid it would turn to dust in his hand. However, this scroll almost felt new, and was not paper.

 Chantrea lightly touched down, holding the other two scrolls. “Let’s start with these.” Her wings vanished as if they’d never existed, and she swept past him to briskly lay her burdens on the table that took up a large portion of the central main aisle. Pulling a box on the table within reach, she got out parchments, two quills, and two inkbottles. “Come on, then!”

 Shadow remained rooted to the spot. He couldn’t even seem to close his mouth.

 Chantrea put her hands on her hips. “Whatever is the matter with you? Come sit down!”

 “You’ve got wings.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Shadow felt like a fool. So what if she had wings? So did he when he shifted to eagle.

 The tinkles of a fairy’s laugh echoed and bounced off the salt walls. “Of course I do, silly! I’m half-fairy, and female. Now sit!” She pointed at the chair next to hers.

 “Right! Sorry. Never seen it before, that’s all.” Shadow moved with alacrity and sat on the indicated seat. “Sorry to look like a lack-wit.”

 She shrugged. “Not likely that you would. Mother told me it is wise to not show off. Most of the other Elves are unaware I have them. Not that I’m ashamed, mind you. However, even Mother doesn’t show hers except to Father when she wishes to entice him. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention you’d seen mine.”

 “But why? They are very lovely.” Lovely wasn’t the word. Enticing wasn’t right, either. They stirred something inside him he didn’t want to examine too closely.

 “The best way to explain it is to show you. Come here, Shadow.” She moved to an open space at the end of the table.

 “Sit down. Now go there. Make up your mind,” he teased. However, he moved to stand in front of her.

 “Please take on your natural form.”

 Shadow measured the area. There was just enough room. He did as commanded.

 Without warning, Chantrea reached up and stroked his horn. Shadow backed up as far as he could, shaking with reaction. “Hey! That’s private.” His hindquarters crashed into a salt column.

 Chantrea looked at him with eyes as cool as water. “Then it is true that a Unicorn’s horn is as much a sexual organ as an Elf’s ears. Correct?”

 Shadow returned to human form and jerked down his tunic to cover the erection. He couldn’t quite cover the stiffness in his voice, however. “Correct.”

 “It is the same with a fairy’s wings. They are not only sensitive to touch, but they seem to arouse many males. I’ve even seen a Troll react. Not a pretty picture.” She gave a half-wry smile. “I do apologize if I’ve caused you some momentary discomfort. I’d hoped Unicorns would be immune to fluttering fairy wings.” She twisted her fingers together and looked genuinely contrite. “Please forgive me.”

 Shadow cleared his throat. “I’ll get over it.” He turned and sat back down. Discomfort indeed! He ached, and felt a small rivulet of perspiration trickle its way down his neck. He picked up a quill and began to unroll the first scroll.

 For a few moments, Chantrea watched him fight with the strange knot holding the scroll closed, and then sat across from him. Deftly, she pulled on one end of the string of her own scroll and the knot fell apart. Grateful to see the trick of it, Shadow pulled his own string and was rewarded when his unwound itself like a small wooden rug.

 “What is this stuff anyway? It is not paper.” Shad fingered his. It was as stiff as wood, yet pliable. The writing looked vaguely familiar, but it seemed to consist of a cross between pictographs and an alphabet.

 Chantrea glanced up from where she’d already begun to translate. “Hmm? Oh. Some sort of plant fiber. I understand it is so plentiful it must be harvested and used or it will take over all available land, growing so densely that it will crowd out all other plants. Good thing they found a use for it.”

 Shadow picked it up and sniffed. “Is it edible?”

 Chantrea snickered. “Not according to my correspondent. Some animals can eat it, but it isn’t very easy on the system, according to her. But then again, keep in mind she’s a carnivore. A Were-Tiger.” Chantrea’s eyes brightened. “She gave me a small live version of the plant, with instructions to always keep it in the container provided and never plant it in the ground. Would you like to see?” She jumped up and ran from the room.

 Shadow bent his head to the scroll. He couldn’t understand the date provided, since the numbers made no sense to him, but found the first word to be translatable as “Unicorn.” Pleased, he moved to the second pictograph. That was easy, too. “Mountain.” The third was a season, probably spring, or summer, since it had a flower. He wasn’t sure. He nibbled on the end of the quill.

 “Here we are!” Chantrea came walking sedately back in, carrying a wide, flat ceramic bowl in the most lurid shade of red he’d ever seen. She placed it carefully on the table and let Shadow examine the plant. It was embedded not in dirt, but rocks and water. The stems of the plant were green, but segmented neatly, like rounded blocks stacked atop one another. Long, thin, green leaves jutted out occasionally, especially at the top. “Don’t eat the stem,” she warned. “It’s hard as rock.”

 Shadow felt the stem, and agreed with that assessment. “How about a small, newer leaf?” At her nod, he plucked one and tasted it. After chewing for a few minutes, he managed to swallow. “Not tasty at all, and very fibrous. I agree. Not really edible, except in dire circumstances.”

 Chantrea nodded with the same cool curiosity Brolly displayed when examining a new wound. “Thank you. I’d not wanted to assess the plant without having a true herbivore try it.” She glanced at his work and smiled. “Oops. I forgot to show you something.”

 She marched to the scroll and picked up his quill. “The writing is read up and down. Like this.” She began in the upper left corner and pointed to each pictograph, moving down the column before starting at the top of the next.

 Shadow bent down to look over her shoulder. “Ah! I see. Yes, that would make more sense. So the first three words are Unicorn-travel-large. Unicorns travel much. Is that what I read?”

 “I’d say the word we’d use is large or many. The next word is a distance measurement similar to miles. So perhaps the full sentence might be, ‘Unicorns travel great distances.’ Do you agree?”

 “Or perhaps ‘Unicorns travel many miles.’ That might be another way to say it. Let’s write them both down. This scroll looks promising.” He reached for a new sheet of parchment just as she turned to look at him directly, and they found themselves literally nose to nose.

 Shadow couldn’t resist, not with his blood still pumping from the sight of her wings, the stroke on his horn, and his growing attraction to the mind behind those leaf-green eyes. He saw those eyes widen just before his mouth clamped down on hers.

  

  

  

 Chapter Three

  

 He wanted to stop and retrieve what was left of his honor before he ruined any chance of friendship with this lovely Elf. At any moment, he expected her to break off the kiss and give him a slap or whatever she deemed fit.

 Instead, those green eyes glazed over, and a tiny moan vibrated against his lips. She deepened the kiss by wrapping one arm around his neck to pull him closer.

 Her eager fingers tugged at his tunic laces, giving her access to his chest. Now he moaned, and gave himself up to the lust she’d caused.

 He allowed her elegant, ink-stained hands to roam where they willed across his chest while he yanked at the delicate ribbons lacing her tunic closed. Flower-white skin turned pink as he slowly removed the ribbon from the holes, determined not to break it in his eagerness.

 Chantrea seemed as lusty as he, for she pushed him into his chair and squirmed over to sit on his lap. She broke the kiss long enough to whisper, “Please?”

 He was happy to oblige, while his head spun with the sweet perfume she wore dominating his sense of smell. Her tunic parted and he buried his face between the two small, elegant breasts while she bowed back until her head all but rested on the table. She looked even more like a sweet confection that way, and Shadow couldn’t resist a taste of those pink peaks displayed in front of him. He sucked one carefully into his mouth and listened to her gasp of pleasure.

 Chantrea threw her head back and tried to beg with her body for more, much more. Some tiny, sane portion of her mind screamed at her for being so wanton, but the rest of her was going mad and ignored it.

 He lifted her off his lap and put her on the table amidst the parchments, inkbottles, and quills. Nothing could have been more erotic to her than to be made love to among her beloved books.

 Shadow could not hear her thoughts because of her personal mage shields, but he stopped to look around at the mess they’d made on the table. “This is my fantasy come to life.” She wasn’t sure if he even realized he’d spoken aloud, since he went back to worshiping her body with lips, tongue, and hands.

 “Mine, too,” Chantrea panted. “More! Give me more.”

 He lifted his head and looked at her with those silver-gray eyes glowing. “I must ask. You are a noble Elven lady. Are you, uh…”

 Chantrea chuckled and levered up on her elbows. “That’s a myth, Shadow. I won’t die, turn into a bird, or any other ridiculous action. And I’m not virginal, in any case. However, it has been a long time. Be gentle, won’t you?”

 Slowly at first, Shadow started to tug on the ribbon holding her pants up. “How long?”

 “Fifty years.” Impatiently, she started helping him remove her clothes by kicking off her slippers. One flew off and landed on a shelf. She took note of its location in the Dryad section so she could find it later.

 “Fifty years? Are the other Elves blind?”

 The astonishment in his voice made her laugh. “No, just scared. Being forced into marriage to the King’s daughter does frighten the timid.”

 Instead of stopping at the news of her royal birth, Shadow laughed with her. “I can see that. If you aren’t worried, I’m not.” He pulled off her pants in one fluid motion and tossed them on a nearby chair. Then he outstretched a hand to help her sit up so he could remove her tunic. “Why have I not seen you at court, then?” Her tunic went the way of her pants.

 Happily naked, Chantrea scooted to the edge of the table to pluck at the laces of his tunic. “Would you rather attend those boring court functions or stay down here with a good book?”

 Shadow let his eyes roam over her trim form. His answer was quick and unfeigned. “The book! Definitely the book! May I come down here and hide next time I’ve done my duties and danced with your mother?” His tunic went over his head in a flash and flew off to land further down the table.

 “I’ll do you one better. Let me know you are coming to court, and I’ll make an appearance. You can dance me right out the doors and I’ll show you my tunnel from the corridor off the main ballroom.” Chantrea eyed the bulge in his trousers with real delight. “Now get out of those pants before I magic them off you.”

 It was no idle threat. It was a favorite trick of the Elves to whisk away clothing to embarrass the unwary. Shadow knew the legends and obeyed, chuckling. “Yes, ma’am!” Fortunately, his low, soft boots came off with the trousers. He kicked them aside.

 Chantrea eyed his tall, well-built body with a burning lust she did not attempt to hide. Bulging arm and thigh muscles reflected his true form, and his abdomen had just the right amount of ripple to mar its perfect smoothness. She moaned. “Shadow, I can’t wait any longer.”

 “You don’t have to.” He pushed her gently back down to lie among the parchments again. “I’m in no mood to wait, myself.”

 Chantrea sighed happily and spread willingly. “Good, because I think I’ve been very patient.”

 Shadow leaned over her. “Last chance.” The head of his cock twitched against her heated clit.

 “Gimme!” The full size of a stallion sliding carefully and slowly in was nearly overwhelming. It hurt. It felt wonderful. She’d be damned if she’d tell him to stop.

 Above her, Shadow’s luminous gray eyes were closed in concentration. From the way his jaw was clenched, he was holding himself back by sheer force of will. For her sake. He was a stallion. Unicorns were gentle creatures, usually, except when it came to mating. It awed her to know he was fighting his instinct to take, aggressively, what she was willing to give. Inch by inch, he fought and won, until he filled her completely. Then he waited until she adjusted.

 It was a kindness that made her lonely heart swell. She fought back tears, knowing he’d misinterpret them as remorse or pain. “Shadow.” She deliberately let him hear the plea in her voice.

 His eyes flew open. “I’ll… hurt… you.”

 “Take, Shadow. Take what I give. Now.”

 Something broke free inside him. She could see him loose the reins of control. He shuddered once, and then plunged.

 The force of his thrust slammed into her. Chantrea cried out and clutched at his arms so she didn’t slide on the papers beneath her.

 Shadow’s shout matched hers. His eyes became as wild as his nature, and he took, as she demanded.

 In fear that she’d slide out of his reach, Chantrea wrapped her legs around his waist and matched his thrusts with her own.

 There was no comparison to the past. Filled and complete for the first time in fifty years, it didn’t matter that she’d be sore in the morning. She only knew the pleasure of the now, of having one who cared for her pleasure above his own, to share this joyous dance with.

 * * *

 Shadow heard the Elven music, a song that beat in time with the pulsing rhythm of his body and his heart. He heard it rise to a crescendo, as Chantrea began to move wildly beneath him. Her breath came in short gasps, and her nails dug into his arms. Those little points of pain were like spurs, and now he understood how they could move an equine to greater power and speed. He pounded toward his own peak, never pausing. To rise to the challenge was all, now.

 Chantrea shrieked beneath him, and the Elven music cried out with her, declaring her orgasm in notes on strings, horns, and bells. His heart added the drumbeat, and he followed the music to a crashing end.

 The pulse of her orgasm wrapped around his cock and massaged more than he’d ever thought possible from him. He might have imagined he was turning inside out with the strength of his own release. Chantrea did not stop moving until he was so spent he feared he might pass out.

 “Enough, Chantrea! I beg a moment,” he panted.

 Chantrea pouted up at him, but complied. The pout turned into a teasing grin. “Forgive me, Shadow. It has been so long, I’d wear out a Satyr if there were any left.”

 “My brother says there are, according to his last message.”

 Chantrea groaned. “Oh, thunder! I can just imagine Chirion persuading a few to come live here. No female would be safe!”

 Shadow offered his hand and helped her sit up on the table. “Mostly the Dryads and Wood nymphs. You’re right. I’ll speak to Councilor Le-An to write Chirion for reassurances.” He looked down at the mess of parchments and the scrolls, still waiting. “We didn’t get much work done.”

 Chantrea hopped off the table and retrieved her shoe from the shelf then began to nonchalantly dress. “Actually, relieving ourselves could be a good thing. Now we can concentrate on the translation. I think you’ve got a good lead, so we can work on that one together.”

 Shadow raised one eyebrow. “It’s getting late.” He didn’t want to leave, but he was beginning to feel tired. The moon had already risen when he’d arrived. He started to dress.

 Chantrea smiled. “True. Would you like to stay the night? My bed is big enough.” The invitation was laden with hope.

 He sighed. This lovely Elf made no pretense at coyness. It was refreshing. She offered nothing more than pleasure, with no hint of ambition. “Let me check with Brolly. My mother is dying, you see.”

 “No!” Chantrea stopped hopping on one foot to put on her slipper. She grasped her braid and twisted. “By all means, ask.”

 Shadow concentrated on mind speaking with Brolly while Chantrea stood in front of him, biting her lip and worrying her braid like a child might clutch a blanket. After a few moments, he smiled and kissed her pert nose. “No change, Brolly says. Her brainstorm still has her unconscious, but alive for now. What is more, I’m asked to stay away for now. It seems the whole Valley has turned out to volunteer for whatever tasks Brolly will set them.”

 Chantrea released her braid, her eyes serious. “Would you prefer to go anyway? I’d like you to stay, but only if you are sure.”

 He took her hand and kissed it. “I would love to stay. But why do you wish this?”

 “Probably for the same reasons as you, I hope. In you, I have found a mind that loves books, and a lover who will not complicate things by doing something so silly as to fall in love.” She tossed her braid over her shoulder and gently took back her hand.

 “You think love is silly?” He nodded toward their chairs, and manifested good wine.

 Chantrea sat with him and sipped before answering. “It is silly for you and I.” She sighed. “We are royal, so let’s not pretend we can be ordinary. Duty must come first, and love a poor second. I will never sit on the throne, for my brothers have already provided heirs. Nevertheless, that doesn’t relieve me of my responsibilities. Someday, my father will remember I’m down here and try again to get me wedded and bedded properly.”

 “Again?” Shadow repeated the word and looked stunned.

 “Yes, again. The Elf Lord I was to marry preferred another.” She slapped playfully at his arm. “Don’t look at me like that. I wasn’t hurt, I was happy. I’m more concerned about you.”

 “Me?” He told himself to stop repeating every word she said.

 “You. You will be Herd Stallion, Shadow. It will be your duty to rule, as well as sire on as many fillies as possible. You can’t allow your particular color line to go away. Haven’t you noticed it’s only you and Durham left of the black and gray line?”

 Shadow sat in stunned silence and stared. “Uh, no, I’d not realized.” Durham was a relation, then? “I was orphaned when very young.”

 Chantrea shook her head at him. “More likely, you were unclaimed, not orphaned. Your dam died -- this was noted in my predecessor’s records -- but she had been the favorite of Black Talamar. I was studying the lines of the Unicorns and saw the pattern. Talamar rarely stayed with a filly for long. Your dam died birthing you, and her sister took over your care until Tanne Brae adopted you. I’d imagine Talamar never knew you were his, or didn’t care. By then, Durham’s dam was in his affections, if you can call it that.”

 Shadow’s stomach churned. Was he really the son of that tyrant as much as Durham? “But Talamar was known for usurping all the fillies. I should have many relations. Why are Durham and I the only ones?”

 Chantrea must have sensed his disquiet. She laid a soft hand on his arm. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you. I thought you knew. Talamar killed all colts born to his favorites, except you and Durham.”

  

  

  

 Chapter Four

  

 “Why?” It was an anguished cry from his soul. “Why did Talamar kill his own offspring? Why did the mares let him?”

 Chantrea used the magic of the Elves to bring more wine and pressed a full goblet in his hand before answering. “Talamar was a paranoid tyrant, Shadow. He wanted only an heir and a spare, as they say. Any more, and one of his sons might someday challenge him. The fillies were no threat, but none were his coloring, either.”

 He forced his mind to take one thing at a time. “Why did the mares let him?” His horror was absolute. All his dreams of finding out whom his sire might have been, and hoping for a stallion who was as good and honorable as Tanne, came crashing down like an illusion.

 Chantrea reached out and pressed his goblet to his lips. “Drink. I’ve given you a shock, and I’m truly sorry.” She sighed. “I can only give you an educated guess. Only Tanne and Kella bothered to report births and deaths consistently, and each of those little ones lived past birth. I’m going to assume Talamar killed the newborns by magic. There were three births recorded by the healers. The two fillies lived, but had their dam’s coloring. I assume Talamar let them live. The one colt died of a mysterious illness in the latter part of his third year.”

 Shadow closed his eyes. A brother was dead, for no good reason. “I can see how it might be easy to dispose of any extra offspring. We breed so slowly, and births are difficult under the best of circumstances.” His whole body jerked and his eyes flew open. “Then why was I allowed to be treated so badly until I was adopted? Durham had the best of everything.”

 Chantrea stroked his hair. “Again, I must speculate. Your dam was his favorite for a long time, compared to the others. Pampered and beloved, but not a strong filly, she was one of the rare whites. My historian predecessor recorded her death and your birth. Talamar did not choose Durham’s dam for some ten years. I think -- though it doesn’t march with Black Talamar’s reputation at all -- I think he mourned your mother for a long time.”

 “And blamed me for her death. That would make sense.” Shadow stood, and paced in silence for a few moments.

 “If it is any consolation to you, you didn’t kill her.” Chantrea’s voice held a note of conviction. “It was recorded that she loved salt during her pregnancy, and against the wishes of the healers, ate it constantly. By the time she gave birth, she was as swollen as a toad and ill. She did it to herself.”

 Shadow worked with Brolly and the other healers enough to know the illness that beset some pregnant females of all races. Salt sickness killed many, if not carefully monitored. He could only nod. “And it follows that Talamar, unable to blame his beloved mare, made me the guilty party.”

 Chantrea allowed a tiny bit of the rage she felt to show. “It was a shameful way to treat his first born. Among the Elves, you would have been the pampered heir, trained from birth to rule in your father’s place.”

 “Well, thank all the gods, that didn’t happen.” Shadow stopped his restless pacing and blessed fate. Perhaps his colthood had been unhappy, but he’d learned good from evil in a way that others could not understand. He squared his shoulders. “Yes, I’m grateful that things turned out the way they did.”

 She offered him a challenging look. “If that is so, then your research here becomes all the more imperative. If I am not mistaken, challenge fights often result in the death of one of the antagonists.” She wrung her braid. “I don’t want you to have your brother’s blood on your horn.”

 Shadow laughed wryly. “I’m glad you are confident I’ll win.”

 Chantrea sniffed and picked up the scroll. “Durham is so spoiled, he’ll resort to trickery. That little band of sycophants of his couldn’t fight if their lives depended on it. They let him win to avoid his temper.”

 His eyes narrowed. “How would you know? I thought you didn’t have anything to do with the world outside your archives.”

 “If I didn’t keep up with the other royal families, what kind of historian would I be?” Chantrea put her hands on her hips and her chin lifted with pride. “I have visitors and ears to hear.”

 That made sense. What was more, it reminded him of her sexy little ears and wings. “And lovely ears they are, too.” His leer was patently lascivious. It might have worked, had his yawn not interrupted.

 Chantrea snickered. “You would be no challenge right now.” She grabbed his hand. “Come, I’ll share my bed. There’s always the morning for happy bed games.”

 While his mind reacted to the insult, his body agreed with her. He forced himself not to stagger in the long, dark passage back to her tree home. “You must be the most uninhibited…” Another yawn caused his eyes to water. “… Elf I know.”

 “Why shouldn’t I be? I have nothing to fear. Even were I to turn myself into a Unicorn mare to sport with you, I would use my Elven magic, not a true shift. So no worries about offspring. Secondly, I have no virtue to protect. It was gone long ago, and good riddance. We are mature, unattached beings. Why shouldn’t we have a good time?”

 “I could learn to shift into an Elf.” He loaded his tone with teasing notes. Come to think of it, that sort of shift wouldn’t be difficult.

 That tinkling fairy laugh echoed down the passage. “Why bother? You are fine as you are!”

 Why indeed? He’d only do so for love, so why consider it? It stopped his heart and made his feet stumble more as he made his way through the door to her tree home. He was considering it, and not for the challenge of doing so. He wanted her to love him. Because he loved her.

 Chantrea heard him stumble and turned. “Oh, look at you! Your face is as white as snow, and your eyes round with shock. Come! My bed is just up those stairs on the next large limb.” She held out a hand, smiling gently.

 In the flickering light of her fire, she was even lovelier than in the bright mage lights below. The fire lit her hair until it was flame itself, and her white skin was creamy. The ink on her tunic and hand was endearing, disrupting her perfection enough to look like something fashioned for mortals, not gods.

 Shadow did not fight the need to take her hand. She led him up a winding stair to her ivy-covered bed. Even the coverlet was sewn to resemble a pile of green leaves. Chantrea whisked away his clothes, pulled back the bedding, and gently pushed him in. She twitched closed curtains of the same leafy material, and took off her own clothes in a more conventional manner than she had before.

 She saw the sleepy lust in his eyes, and shook a finger at him. “We’ll play in the morning. Rest assured of that!” She crawled in next to him and snuggled in his arms as if she belonged there, and kissed his cheek. “Pleasant dreams, Shadow.”

 “How could I not?” She did belong in his arms, and he wanted to plot how to win her heart, but sleep stole his thoughts the way she’d stolen his clothes.

 * * *

 Chantrea woke to the birdsong of her avian friends, whose nest was right outside the window. Sleepily rolling over, she found herself solidly against a broad, naked, and very masculine back. Blinking awake with a start, it took her a few moments to remember the events of the night before. Her lips curved into a smug smile.

 What a lover Shadow was! Well worth breaking a fifty-year fast. He was close to perfection itself, with his soft, intelligent gray eyes and equally soft heart, all encased in hard body and rigid honor. How could she not fall in love nearly instantly? It made her want to weep and sing, all at once.

 She slid carefully out of bed and tiptoed down the stairs for a wash. Once her morning ablutions were done, she unbraided her hair and began to brush it out before putting it neatly back into place.

 Shaking her brush at her reflection in the mirror over her fireplace, she laughed. “Oh, you are such a fool, Chantrea! Look at you! In love with a stallion you can never have.”

 The Elf in the mirror smiled ironically.

 “Didn’t you listen to yourself last night? Shall I list the reasons again for you?”

 She shook her head at the luminous face that grinned like a fool back at her.

 “Oh, weren’t you just the ultimate in fakery last night? Pretending to airily take your first lover in so long, you can barely remember? Brainless twit!”

 She sighed and watched her face turn sad. “He was enthralled with your wings, that’s all. If you keep them hidden, his interest will wane.” Her shoulders slumped. “No one wants you for yourself. Your father has had no offers for your hand, ever since your ill-fated betrothal.”

 She glanced at the stairs to her bedroom. “Enjoy it while you can, Historian. Make love joyously, so that you will have good memories when he is gone back to his Herd. You will be forgotten again.”

 She braided her hair in silence, and patted it into place. Her neat, practical hair belied her naked state. “Now, you will march back up those stairs, and enjoy that fine example of perfection gracing your bed.” She shook the brush at her mirror image once more. “Then you shall work until your head hurts to find the answer he seeks!”

 “My plan exactly.” Shadow’s voice floated down the stairs, as his long legs came into view.

 Chantrea prevented herself from sighing with longing at his naked state as he walked nonchalantly in and washed his face at her washbowl. She forced herself to smile cheerfully when she wanted to melt at his feet. “Good morning!”

 He dried his face on the same linen she’d used, and then sauntered over to kiss her thoroughly. “Good morning to you too, beautiful.”

 Despite her dismissive words of how beauty had no meaning in the Valley, Chantrea’s heart swelled. Embarrassed at her silliness, she turned her mind to practical matters. “Do you wish to fortify yourself with a bit of breakfast?”

 He hummed against her lips. “I have a sweet tooth, as a matter of fact.”

 “For breakfast? Well, all right. I have honey cakes.” She’d been thinking more along the lines of some fruit, bread, and cheese.

 “No, for a certain pink and white confection, creamy and sweet.” He scooped her up in his arms.

 “Oh!” Chantrea wrapped her arms around his neck and giggled. “Well, far be it from me to deny you, since I’ve a particular craving myself.”

 “Do you now?” He was grinning as if he’d found a whole meadow of clover to himself. “And here I thought the Fair Folk didn’t indulge in sausage.”

 “Euw! Don’t be disgusting. I could happily live my whole life without tasting greasy pig fat. I was thinking of a great roll we make, filled with a deliciously sweet center. It is served only on special occasions.”

 Laughing, Shadow took the stairs two at a time, carrying her effortlessly. “I remember that dish! At your brother’s wedding a few years ago, I made myself sick eating all I could. I accept the analogy as accurate. They were delicious.”

 He put her on the bed, and Chantrea took note of the fact he’d pulled the coverlet up to keep it neat. A small thing, perhaps, but it gratified her.

 Shadow had a wicked grin on his face as he manifested a tray full of fruit, a honey pot, and two mugs of steaming tea. “You’ve given me an idea.”

  

  

  

 Chapter Five

  

 Shadow picked up a ripe strawberry and held it to Chantrea’s lips while he sat next to her on the generous bed.

 Oblivious to his plans, she bit into the juicy berry. With what remained, Shadow rubbed the juices over her nipple and enjoyed his own morsel the way he wanted, ignoring her gasps.

 “What a wonderful way to enjoy strawberries,” she panted. “You’re full of good ideas this morning.”

 “I’m not done.” The other nipple got the same sticky treatment, and he happily cleaned it up.

 Her delighted “Oh” ended on a moan. She closed her eyes and he feasted on her breasts.

 Shadow reached out with one hand and plucked a few smaller berries from the bowl. He crushed a couple between forefinger and thumb, trailing the juices down her body just ahead of his tongue. The rest he held carefully in his palm, out of sight.

 At the touch of his hand, she spread her thighs, and grinned while he got up to move to the foot of her bed. Moving aside the living hangings of flowing vines, he peeped through the curtain with a teasing laugh. “Do you trust me?”

 “Implicitly! Now, please come atop me.”

 “No, not yet, my darling. I’m not done with breakfast.” He knelt between her legs, and one hand teased the glistening folds open.

 “What are you going to do? Oh! Oh!” Shadow had placed a berry, warmed in his hand, inside her. She squirmed, but didn’t object, so he placed another.

 When his hand was empty, Chantrea’s eyes were wide and wild. “I’ve always wanted to do this.” He chuckled and leaned down to lick slowly and carefully at the tiny fruit her own body provided. “Your little clit looks like a berry to me, so it gets tasted first.”

 Chantrea felt her pussy crush the berries nestled inside, and the mix flowed out. Shadow lapped it up and attacked her clit once more.

 The bed was long enough for Shadow to lie down, even if his legs dangled perilously off the edge, and he ground his hardening cock into the leafy coverlet.

 Chantrea’s tiny cries built with her shudders, as Shadow ate his fruit the way he’d fantasized. When she stilled and gasped, he knew his sweet reward was moments away.

 Chantrea’s shriek was in Elven, but he understood the most important word: his name. His command of her language was sketchy at best, but he thought he heard, “I love you.” He wasn’t sure.

 To make sure she couldn’t understand him, he spoke barely above a whisper in the human tongue his uncle had taught him, Latin. “I love you too, my precious.” Muffled against her sweet pussy, he was sure he could not be understood.

 When she grabbed his hair and begged, he stopped. Intending to crawl up to kiss her mouth as long as she let him, he made his way slowly up her body, kissing anything he could reach.

 Before he could get the kiss he desired, Chantrea flipped him, in a move his brothers would be proud to use in wrestling, until she sat on his stomach.

 “Now, I think it fair to say that I’m hungry!” She reached for the honey pot with a wicked smile. “You’ve taught me this morning that sweets can make a wonderful breakfast, and I’m anxious to try it for myself.”

 She bounced off and sat beside him. “Since you reminded me of bricoha , and it is made with honey, I shall taste something similar.”

 “Is that what that bread treat is called?”

 He gasped as she drizzled warm honey down his cock.

 Chantrea put the honey pot back on the tray and bent down to suckle at the base of his twitching shaft. “Mmm-hmm!” One delicate white forefinger touched the tip, and smeared honey inside the slit. The finger remained, holding him steady while she busily sucked and licked all the honey from bottom to top.

 Shadow thought he’d go mad by the time she licked and nibbled her way to just under the head. The sticky stuff required a great deal of work to remove to her satisfaction, but she seemed in no hurry. His hand found her braid, and he grasped it like a rope.

 She lifted her head briefly. “Yes, I definitely like this sort of breakfast!” Her mouth covered the head of his cock and suckled.

 He couldn’t stop himself from bucking, and he filled her mouth with his whole cock. Choking did not follow her muffled squeak. Instead, she went to work with a will, moving her head to take him all again, removing the last of the honey that remained.

 When he could stand no more, he tugged on her braid. “Enough, I beg! I would prefer to finish this inside you.”

 Chantrea sat up, her green eyes twinkling. “So would I.” She didn’t give him a chance to put her on her back, but climbed up and eased him into her body inch by inch.

 Shadow grabbed her waist as she finally reached the bottom. “I am ready to be ridden by a wanton lady, but I demand a wild and fast ride.”

 Laughingly she tugged on her braid, now wrapped around his wrist. “Then, let’s go!” With an incoherent shout, she proceeded to bounce up and down on his belly while he thrust from beneath, until he too shouted with pleasure.

 “This is not how I dreamed of riding a Unicorn, but much better!” She laughed between pants and groans.

 “I’ll give you a proper ride later to satisfy that wish, but first --” He lifted her off and put her beneath him. “You must be ridden to a finish.” He slid back in while she willingly lifted her hips to accommodate him.

 “A price I willingly pay! Oh, Shadow!” Her eyes glazed over, and her nails dug into his back. “I feel as if I’ll explode!”

 Shadow did, too. His body signaled impending release, and he did not fight it. Her orgasm rose again, caressing and squeezing until he, too, rode to a sweating finish. He felt as if he would turn inside out as he gave all he had into her receptive body.

 It was all he could do to collapse beside her, lying on his back until his breathing returned to normal.

 Chantrea moved to cuddle in his arms and traced a finger across his pectoral muscles. “We aren’t getting any work done this way, but the sacrifice of a few hours was well worth it, in my opinion.”

 “Agreed. I hate to ask, but is there a place where we can bathe? A full immersion, I mean.” The honey was gone, but he was sweat-soaked and could smell himself.

 Chuckling, Chantrea left his arms. “Yes, there are hot springs below this tree.” She threw on a robe, and Shadow’s eyes widened when he recognized Elven spider silk. Shimmering and strong, the robe was lightweight and nearly indestructible.

 He gathered his strength and stood, forcing his knees not to wobble. He manifested his own dark blue robe while she opened a carved chest and removed two thickly woven squares of material. “What are those?”

 She folded the squares neatly. “Towels. Much better than linen to absorb water. Unless you’d rather just transform to dry off, these work well. However, I’ll need one. I don’t feel like wasting the magic.”

 Chagrined, he remembered that Elves didn’t normally shape shift the way other denizens of the valley could. It took a great deal of effort, and often went horribly wrong. To take on a different form, they used a literal spell and magic. It would be rude to point out the flaw in Elven bodies that didn’t allow them to shift easily.

 Chantrea gathered up a small basket. He assumed it contained the sundry items females liked to use to bathe. Belatedly, Shadow took the towels from her so she was not overburdened while he carried nothing.

 “I could use a nice soak, myself. How hot do you like it?” She turned and glided down the stairs.

 He couldn’t resist. Shadow imitated a Gryphon’s purr. “Very hot.” It was an effort not to tread on her robe train on the way down.

 She shot him an amused look over her shoulder and opened the door to the tunnel leading to the archives. “I meant, water temperature.”

 “There’s a choice?” He lengthened his stride to keep up with her.

 She turned and led him down a side passage. Almost immediately, he could smell the metallic tang and moist air of the springs. “There are three, plus the falls. The top level is the smallest pool, and very hot. You can’t stay there for long, but it is good for soaking out aches. The next level down is warm, but much more suitable for bathing.” She opened a door that led into an enormous cavern. Chantrea called out, and a few soft mage lights came on. “The third level down is the largest and coolest of the pools, and good for swimming. It is also the one with the falls, for a final rinse.”

 “Luxurious.” And it was. Not only were the mage lights a soothing blue that didn’t hurt the eyes, they reflected off the crystals lining the walls of the cavern, making the whole effect one of a starry night with three moons.

 Rock formations arose from the floor, and had been carved into benches, chairs, and platforms. Chantrea put her basket on one of the benches near the largest pool. Shadow followed to lay the towels beside it. She casually removed her robe and tossed it carelessly on the bench. “I’ll show you the stairs.” She wrapped her braid atop her head and secured it with a skewer before turning to a darker portion of the cavern.

 Shadow disrobed and was right behind her when she climbed a short flight of stairs that stopped at the various levels. At the top, the pool steamed invitingly. “That does look hot.”

 “Get in slowly and let your body adjust.” She suited words to action using a series of built-in levels to ease her way into the water.

 The advice was sound, as Shadow learned as soon as he put his foot in the water. It was hot enough to make him suck in his breath. “By my horn, you weren’t joking!”

 The steam misted her face and turned a few hairs loosened by their bed play to curling tendrils. “I can’t stay here long. When you feel your heart beating and your face turns red, it is time to go to the bathing pool. Your huge equine heart may allow you to stay longer than my delicate Elven one, but some have loved the heat so much their hearts exploded. Or, at least, that’s what the healers say.”

 “I’ll take the warning to, pardon the pun, heart.” Shadow sank down on one of the sculpted underwater benches.

 “Be careful, there’s a…” She snickered when he yelped and shot to a standing position. “…vent in that bench.”

 Shadow looked down and saw bubbles rising from a rounded crack in the bench. He rubbed his balls where they had been massaged indelicately and nearly scalded. He chose another bench, this time checking it carefully.

 Chantrea snickered until she couldn’t hold it in and laughed. “I’m sorry. Some benches are built for female enjoyment and cleansing. I forgot to tell you.” She pointed to a bench next to the one he sat upon, sunk a little lower in the water. “That one massages the back, should you ever have need.”

 “It sounds as if many use this place besides just you.”

 “Oh, yes! This is the main facility for all the Elven nobility who stay in our raft. We are lucky enough to have the private use of it. Everyone else is busy, I suppose.”

 Shadow knew the term raft mean a main dwelling place for Elven folk, usually below a hill. Then he remembered Chantrea’s tree was not far from the largest hill in the Elven region of the Valley. “There’s a tunnel from your father’s palace, I take it? I’ve only used the main entrance at the base of the hill, of course.”

 She nodded. “Many tunnels lead here. It’s difficult to get bathing facilities up in the trees, so most of us who choose to live in them come here. Father and some of his ministers have private baths, if they have need of peace. It can get noisy down here when there’s a party.”

 Shadow jerked upright. “You mean this is what was meant when I was invited to a Bath Party? The Elf Lord who asked was flirting outrageously with me. I declined, since I didn’t want what he did, but Brolly took him up on it.”

 The chuckle burst forth from her rapidly reddening face. “That must have been cousin Georgi. He’s a terrible flirt, but there’s no harm in him. Healer Brolly, you say? Well, no wonder he smugly talked about ‘the Werewolf’ for months. Healers are very good lovers, I hear.”

 They lay back in companionable silence for a few moments. Shadow watched Chantrea’s face turn as red as a strawberry while he felt next to nothing. She stared at the water bubbling from the center of the pool. She bit her lip and played with a few bubbles that rose to the surface from one of the vents.

 Chantrea’s soft voice broke the silence. “Shadow, I have to ask. Did you mean it when you said that you loved me?”

  

  

  

 Chapter Six

  

 Shadow gaped at Chantrea, who continued to stare at the water as if it held the secrets of the universe. “You understood me.” It wasn’t a question. The implication was there that if she understood him, she knew he understood her declaration of love in Elven.

 “Yes, just as you knew what I said.” Her smile was so sad, though her eyes glittered with humor when she looked up. “I didn’t think you knew Elven.”

 “Just as I didn’t think you knew Latin. How did you learn a human tongue?”

 “Same way you did, I’d imagine. From the human mage Joshua, may the gods rest him.” She shrugged. “He visited our archives often. You know how insatiably curious he was. I was in training then, and assigned to help him. He added so much to our library, we all mourned his passing.” She bit her lip. “But that doesn’t solve our problem.”

 “What is the problem? We love one another. I see no problem.” Even as he spoke it, he understood.

 “Liar.” She got out and stepped down to the bathing pool. “Sorry, can’t stand another minute.” She loosened her braid from the skewer, and Shadow was treated to the first heart-stopping sight of her hair cascading to her ankles. The incredible view lasted but a moment before she stepped into the water, where her hair floated around her like white foam.

 Shadow followed her, and found the bathing pool pleasantly cool after the scalding heat of the soaking pool. Chantrea tossed him a cake of green soap and a sponge from her basket. She took up similar implements, although her soap was lavender in color. His soap smelled pleasantly of herbs.

 They both lathered up in silence. Shadow respected the contemplative crease between her arched brows. It was true they had much to think on.

 She dunked herself below the surface, and came up to scrub her scalp. He watched, fascinated, as she methodically worked the soap down the entire length of her hair.

 “Why do you keep your hair so long? It seems like a great deal of bother.” It was true many females of all races kept long hair, mostly for the opportunity to braid and add flowers or other ornamentation. He threw up his hands when she shot him a surprised look. “Not that I’m complaining. It’s beautiful.”

 The frown left her brow for the first time. Her lips twitched, and then she began to laugh. It took her a few minutes to sober enough to answer him. “Point of pride, my darling stallion. No Elven noblewomen cut their hair. Many hire Sprites to help them keep it, especially with the elaborate ways we like to wear it and show off. I don’t bother, most of the time.” She dipped below the water and rinsed thoroughly.

 Shadow still wasn’t convinced, but considered it one of those feminine mysteries he’d never understood about his sisters, and wouldn’t understand now. He ducked under the water and rinsed the soap from his own body.

 When he surfaced, he heard Chantrea’s distinctive laugh. Rubbing the water out of his eyes, he beheld the sight of her naked body standing outside the pool while she talked with an equally naked male Elf, carrying his own basket of bathing supplies.

 Shadow restrained his jealousy, barely, until he heard the male say, “Thanks, Sis. I’m in dire need of a good soak.” Oh. He was one of her brothers. For some reason, that made things easier.

 Chantrea slapped her brother on the arm. “That’s what you get for speaking Troll so well. Were you able to negotiate the trade?”

 “Yes, indeed! I’m pleased to say Morag and I worked out a nice deal. Their carved ivory for our spider silk hangings. The crafts-Elves will be throwing a celebration, of course. Will you and Prince Shadow be free?” The Elf smiled at Shadow before climbing in the soaking pool.

 “We’ll see if we manage to get a translation at least started, Brant.” Chantrea shrugged. “We found a good scroll last night, late.”

 Prince Brant waved his hand. “You are too serious, by halves! My wife wants to see you, once a decade at least. She’s expecting again, and she wants to research a name in hopes we have a girl this time.”

 The name of an exotic flower popped out of Shadow’s mouth. “Orchid.”

 Prince Brant leaned over the side of his pool, his face already turning pink from the heat. “Brilliant, Your Highness! Simple, yet lovely. My wife will thank you.”

 Shadow stepped from the pool at Chantrea’s raised eyebrow. “You’re most welcome, Prince Brant. My regards to your lady.” With a twinkle in her eye, Chantrea tossed him a robe. He donned it and they exited the cavern arm in arm.

 “Don’t let her work you too hard, Prince Shadow!” Brant’s laughter followed them down the corridor.

 As soon as they entered Chantrea’s home, two Sprites flew in the open window and flitted about her hair. Magically, Chantrea’s hair not only untangled, but also dried under their ministrations. Since they appeared as two glowing balls of light, it was difficult to tell how they did it.

 Shadow watched, fascinated. Chantrea winked, and his clothes appeared, neatly folded, beside him on the table. He took the hint and dressed.

 Chantrea manifested a beautiful snow rose in her hand, and thanked her tiny friends. They twinkled some response, and disappeared out the window, carrying the rose between them.

 With her hair now dry and covered in a multitude of braids, Chantrea dressed in another tunic and pants, this time in green.

 “I’ve an idea to temporarily put our dilemma in abeyance, if you are agreeable, Shadow.” Her tone was soft, and pleading. “Let’s just live for the now, enjoy each other’s company, and let the future handle itself.” She smiled, albeit a bit sadly. “It may seem terribly Elven of me, but I prefer to deal with my problems one at a time.”

 Shadow started to disagree, and then stopped. “You’re right. We have the more immediate need of finding the solution to the transfer of power. Who knows?” He shrugged. “The solution may not be there, and I fight anyway. We can but try.”

 He offered her his hand, and escorted her down into the archives, happy merely to be with her.

 * * *

 Chantrea rubbed her tired eyes. No matter how hard she tried, she could not focus her mind on the words to translate them. She was also in desperate need of the privy after endless mugs of tea. “Shadow, I need a break. My eyes burn.”

 Shadow looked up from the scroll, his eyes so red they looked like storm clouds in a sea of blood. His voice croaked out, harsh from reading the scroll aloud. “I am forced to agree, though it galls me to stop when we seem so close. Chantrea, I think we may have something here.”

 “I know. It galls me to stop too. But if I don’t take a break, we shall have to blame the puddle beneath my chair on the Sprites.”

 Shadow snickered. “At least I can merely find a convenient outdoor location.”

 Her eyes lit up. “Let’s sit under the tree in my garden and read what we already have translated. I think we may have enough. Translating word by word means we do not have a full meaning.” Then she grinned wickedly. “I can also bring food. I would guess it is late afternoon, and my stomach is wrapping around my backbone and complaining bitterly.”

 They went in separate directions and met under the oak in her garden. It did not take them long to fill their bellies and read the translated scroll.

 “Unicorns travel great distances -- or many miles -- to meet once a year in the Magical Forest. If a new leader -- Herd Stallion, perhaps? -- is needed, then fighting begins.” Chantrea read this haltingly.

 Shadow gently took the scroll. “It would be better if you also did not have to translate my writing. I wrote this part.” He smiled and kissed her nose as if he couldn’t help himself. He held the paper to the light and read. “It has happened three times that no one wished to challenge the old leader, or it would cause strife -- or war? Did we ever decide? -- to allow fights. Thus, the leader chose his successor.”

 “And that’s where we had trouble, isn’t it? The next sentence?” Chantrea peered over his shoulder, her breast resting there and distracting him.

 Shadow cleared his throat. “Yes, but I think we puzzled it out fairly well. Let’s give it a go and see how it sounds. All creatures who would be ruled then agreed or not.” Shadow turned to look at Chantrea. “You know, I like that. It would be nice to know everyone wanted me to rule, instead of having no choice in the matter.”

 “Who wouldn’t want you?”

 Her loyal declaration caused Shadow to smile. He flicked a finger on her tiny nose. “You, my darling, might be called prejudiced in that regard.” He sighed. “There are those who feel Tanne’s policies of equality among all creatures of the Valley are wrong. They want to return to the days when Unicorns ruled as demi-deities. Durham is the leader of that faction.”

 “They would return to the Unicorns being treated as gods, using and abusing the so-called lesser creatures?” Shock and outrage rang in her voice.

 Shadow laughed. “The only problem with that is that you cannot force a chick back into its shell once it is hatched. The creatures of the Valley have tasted freedom from tyranny of that type. They would rise up in rebellion, and it would be a war of such scale, it might destroy the Valley.”

 Chantrea gasped. “Is that why your Father wants an orderly transition instead of risking challenge fights? To avoid the possibility that one of those who prefers tyranny might be made Herd Stallion, and thus avoid even the remotest chance of war?” The thought of all creatures battling the awesome powers of the Unicorns was not a pleasant vision. Worse was the idea that she would know Shadow was dead or defeated, for the war would not happen while he lived. She was confident of that.

 Shadow gathered her in his arms. “Partially, my dove. You see, the ones who wish to fight do so until there are no more challengers. I might win the first few fights, but there is always the possibility I would be too tired to continue to win. It is a contest of strength and endurance, not necessarily magic.”

 “Why not do magic as well? You are well taught!” Indignation warred with her need to remain coolly neutral so she could record events properly.

 “We are permitted magic, but all Unicorns have equal access to the power flows of the Valley. Knowing how to use those energies gives you the advantage. That is not a good thing for the herd. The Stallion must have endurance and wit, in addition to a measure of how much energy he can control. What if the Valley were not here, and there were no magic? It would then be the test of the physical abilities that must win the day. So, magic is secondary.”

 “Hmph!” Chantrea settled herself to lay her head on his lap. “If that is so, then if I were Durham, I would send lesser challengers to wear you out, and cause you to reveal your favorite strategies. When you were tired and most vulnerable, then I would challenge.” She made a derisive sound. “Coward!”

 “That sounds like something he’d do. It wouldn’t surprise me, in any case.”

 They sat in silence for a few minutes, and she wondered if he remembered that they were discussing Shadow’s own brother.

 “Shadow?”

 “Hmm?” He stopped playing with her braids and looked at her.

 “Why do some Unicorns insist they are superior?”

 A mocking voice broke the birdsong. “Because we are, silly Elf!”

 Shadow and Chantrea both leapt to their feet. In the trees, wearing his rarely used human form, stood Durham. Chantrea looked back and forth, startled, as she realized how similar in face and form the brothers were.

 Durham pushed off from the tree he’d been leaning against and laughed derisively. “Here I thought to check on your progress, and what do I find? My dear brother cozying up with the Elf historian!” He tsked-tsked. “I can’t wait to tell the others tomorrow how you’ve compromised yourself and your research.”

 His mocking laughter echoed as he teleported away.

  

  

  

 Chapter Seven

  

 Shadow’s heart sank as he stared at the spot where Durham had stood. What was he to do now? They had the translation, and it was accurate. He was sure Durham would twist his relationship with Chantrea into something ugly.

 At first, Chantrea stuffed her fist into her mouth and wept into his shirt. Then she was silent for a few breaths before a steady stream of curses in several different languages erupted from those sweet lips. It was shocking in its own way to hear the names she called his brother, and the anatomically impossible positions she wanted to put him in, as were the implements she threatened to use upon him.

 “Hush, my darling,” he murmured into her hair, sure she could not hear him. “I am sure the Council will…”

 “…be forced to take his words under consideration. You know that.” She pushed away until she stood in front of Shadow, rigid with fury. “I’m more insulted that he thinks I’d lose my objectivity like that. Historians must tell the truth, no matter how ugly. My books are even bespelled to ensure no one may change what I write once it is entered, no matter how much it discomfits those in charge. Historians have died for that.” She tilted her chin proudly.

 He couldn’t help but see how some rulers and leaders would not like the ugly truth about their foibles and mistakes to be ruthlessly put down for all to see. He chuckled. “I can see where that might make for interesting reading.”

 “Who needs fiction when history is much dirtier, more twisted, and heart-stoppingly suspenseful than the best imaginations could conjure?” She looked both mollified and thoughtful.

 Shadow watched as the same sort of calculating and secretive smile his foster mother could produce slowly lit Chantrea’s face. The resemblance was uncanny enough to twist his heart, knowing his mother was dying.

 She brushed imaginary dirt off her hands in a quick motion.

 “What are you up to?” He could see she had a plan, and whatever it was, he wanted in on it.

 Her glittering smile never wavered, though her eyes went round with false innocence. “It is said that you should consider the source when presenting what you believe to be the truth. I think it is time we considered the source of that.” She stabbed her finger at their handiwork, on the ground where they’d left it.

 Shadow bent to pick up their translation. “Okay. What is the source?”

 She gathered up the remains of their picnic with a sweep of magic and picked up the basket where it flew. “My friend MoonTyger. Come on. I’ve a message to send.”

 Shadow followed her as she half-ran into her tree home. Chantrea dumped her basket carelessly on the table and took a beautifully lacquered box off a shelf. Inlaid in the center in mother-of-pearl was a huge, Gryphon-like paw print.

 “What animal made that print? It is too small to be a Gryphon’s.” He ran a finger over the inlay, impressed with the handiwork.

 “It’s MoonTyger’s, I understand.” She handed him the lid to study further. From inside she lifted a sheet of crystal. It was shaped like an ordinary parchment, but clearly made of rock. While lifting out a tiny brush and an equally tiny pot of ink, she muttered, “Let’s see if I remember the trick of this spell.”

 “Your friend the Were-Tiger?” He studied the paw print and noted the size of the claws. “That’s a deadly looking paw she’s got. Where does she live?”

 Chantrea nodded, but began to paint pictographs similar to the ones they’d been translating onto the crystal sheet. However, as soon as one was done, it disappeared into the sheet’s surface. “Far away, in a place she calls only ‘the forest.’ She won’t talk about her home much. I think she likes being mysterious. I’m asking her for clarification of the scroll. That’s her mark on the bottom of the original. She won’t like hearing a historian’s truthfulness has been called into question over her work, I can tell you.”

 “I was going to ask.” Shadow replaced the lid on the box. He watched Chantrea finish her message in silence.

 “There!” She replaced the lid on the inkpot and washed the brush carefully, smoothing every hair gently into place. Both went back into the box.

 Then Chantrea sat down and began to fold the crystal sheet in the oddest pattern he’d ever seen. She creased it one way, smoothing it with a knife-like tool, and then opened it again, only to make another fold in another spot. Slowly, a shape formed -- that of a tiny swan, complete with a bent neck. Chantrea picked it up and showed it to Shadow. The tiny swan fluttered its wings as if alive and preparing for flight.

 “Such beauty from simple paper.” Shadow didn’t bother to keep the wonderment out of his voice. The little head dipped in acknowledgement of the compliment.

 Chantrea took the tiny swan to the window and blew on it. It flew out the window, hovered for a moment, and then burst forth as a full-sized swan made of crystal. The graceful creature honked once, then took off like a slung stone into the sky, flying east faster than he thought possible. Shadow ran to the window to watch it glide over the eastern cliffs and out of sight.

 Chantrea watched out the window for a few minutes, and then turned to Shadow with her arms crossed. The calculating smile was back. “There! We shall see what happens now. Few question MoonTyger’s judgment.”

 Shadow walked over to the fire, intending to offer her some calming tea. Instead, he found himself stalked by a little Elf with a sardonic look on her face. He backed up, smiling. It was like his Gryphon nephews and nieces hunting. “Am I your prey, now?” He laughed.

 “Yes!” She leapt into his arms. “If Durham has his way, you will be too busy for dalliances starting tomorrow.”

 Her declaration was accurate. So was her magic. Once again, he was naked. “I see. What was it someone said about wearing out a Satyr?” He teleported them both upstairs to her bed.

 * * *

 Shadow’s teleport did not stop the momentum her leap had caused, so he fell beneath her on the bed, laughing. She pressed her advantage and kissed every inch of his body she could reach.

 Chantrea wanted -- no, needed -- to make love to Shadow with a desperation she could not explain. Perhaps it was because she knew she would lose him soon. He was destined to be Herd Stallion, ruling the Valley and preserving his kind. A cruel little snake of jealousy knotted itself in the pit of her stomach at the thought of the fillies who would get what she longed to keep for herself.

 “What causes you to act so fiercely?” Shadow’s voice turned concerned, even as his chuckles died. “I’m not going anywhere!” He grabbed her arms and lifted her body so they were eye-to-eye.

 “I’m frightened for you!” The lie caught in her throat. It was better he never knew how much it hurt to know they would soon be parted. It was better to let him think this was nothing more than a pleasant romp, and she’d get over her love for him.

 “Liar. You said before you were sure I’d win and why. That doesn’t sound like you have anything to be scared of. Tell the truth. What ails you?” He cuddled her close anyway.

 A partial lie, then. “I’m envious of all those fillies you’ll soon service.”

 Shadow’s lips twitched. “Why would you be envious of them? They are nothing to me.” The twinkle in his eye told her he was teasing, but it also said he didn’t understand the problem.

 She couldn’t stop the pout on her lips. “You will need to further your color line. That’s an imperative. You must!” How did you explain the concept of monogamy to a creature whose very nature went against it?

 “I’ll see to it, I can promise you that.” His eyes turned sober and stormy. “I don’t have to like it, though.”

 Chantrea blinked. “You don’t?”

 “No. Imagine, if you will, that you are an unmated Unicorn filly about to go into heat. You feel the urges, and can think of little else. You cast about wildly, hoping some stallion you at least like will do you the kindness, when you go into full heat, of easing the ache. None are available or willing.”

 “Oh, no!”

 “You begin to see it, don’t you? You are humiliated, and cannot help but feel ugly and unloved. In despair, you seek the last resort: the Herd Stallion. He will, at least, ease your aching need, but without love or caring. No matter how gentle or kind he is, he doesn’t love you.”

 Horror had her clutching her throat. “It has to be no better for you, knowing you are the last chosen. You are there to fulfill a need, not enjoyment. She doesn’t even like you, or she would have asked before then.”

 He nodded and looked haunted. “That is the duty of the Herd Stallion in peacetime, my love. Why do you think they call it ‘service,’ hmm? It is a duty to be done. Nothing more, and certainly not enjoyable.”

 “It’s sexual slavery!” She sat up, nearly in tears. “You would willingly put yourself into sexual slavery?”

 His smile was wry, but the haunted look did not leave his eyes. “I have no more choice than your brothers, my darling. Besides, I’ll have other things to do, like running the Valley.” He chuckled somewhat weakly. “Some stallions enjoy the duty. I’ll ask for their help when I can.”

 “But still!”

 “You look ready to do battle for me, my dove. I promise you, it is unnecessary. It will only happen perhaps once every ten to twenty years. Remember, Unicorns breed slowly. Only rarely will my services be necessary. Most fillies are quite capable of picking their own mates. Just as I have done.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and leered in a ludicrous manner until she laughed.

 Chantrea whisked away her own clothes and slid her body suggestively until she lay full-length on top of him. “Then you shall have to prove to me that I am first in your stallion’s heart, for as long as our relationship lasts.”

 “Then I shall have a long time…”

 Chantrea placed her fingers over his lips before he could finish the sentence. “You know as well as I that the Valley takes note of vows. Make no promises now, for the coming days may change things. It is enough that the Valley knows we love one another.”

 “It is enough for me as well.” He rolled, taking her with him, and pressed her into the mattress.

 She wrapped her arms around his neck. The desperation returned full force and made her tremble. “It is whispered among us Elves that Unicorn stallions are very aggressive lovers. Will you show me?”

 Shadow’s slow smile answered her plea. “I thought to be gentle with my little Elf, but she surprises me yet again. Are you sure?”

 Even as he asked, she felt him harden against her thighs. Chantrea nodded, knowing an inner fire lighted her eyes. “I don’t want gentle tonight. I want you to take me, hot, hard, and fast. Show me no mercy.”

 Her stallion’s eyes turned to storm clouds. “As you wish, so shall it be.” One strong hand clamped on her jaw and turned her head, exposing her pointed ear. “I have longed to taste these since you grasped my horn and caressed it.”

 His tongue flicked out and traced the sensitive point, making her gasp and squirm. She spread willingly to bring his hard cock between her aching thighs, instantly as wet as any filly in heat.

 “Not yet,” came the soft murmur in her ear. “We have a long night of loving ahead of us, and dreams to fulfill.”

 Chantrea managed to pant out her own wish. “I have a dream as well, Shadow. Let me taste you. Please?”

 “Only if you do not take me to completion. I want to fill your sweet pussy with my seed, not your mouth. Agreed?”

 Her green eyes widened. Never had a male asked for that. She nodded her agreement.

 Shadow got up off the bed, and offered her a hand. Chantrea wickedly gave him a small shove that pushed him off balance. He stepped back into the center of her bedroom.

 Before he could recover, she manifested her wings and knelt on the rug before him.

 Shadow groaned as he looked down. “You know what that does to me, don’t you?” She fluttered her wings and grinned. “I guess you do. Wasn’t I supposed to be the aggressor?”

 Chantrea took his heated cock in her hand and marveled at the size. “Yes, but I intend to drive you over the edge to madness.” She took all she could fit of him inside her mouth and listened to him moan.

 Her other hand reached up to play with his balls while she sucked with all her might up and down the shaft. She knew what he saw was many a male’s fantasy: a little pink and white fairy intent on driving him mad with lips, tongue, and hands. It was all she could do to swallow his size, but apparently determination made up for her lack of experience in such matters.

 Shadow soon trembled above her, and his thighs quivered with the strain. She needed him to want desperately to buck and thrust, until his need overrode his wish not to hurt her. His moans intensified, and the scent of aroused male filled her every breath. When his balls lifted away from her hand, she stopped.

 “I begin to develop a taste for meat,” she teased.

 By way of answer, he picked her up in two strong hands and threw her face first over the back of the large fluffy armchair she kept near her fireplace.

 He answered her squeak of surprise with a low chuckle. “I don’t want to harm your wings by tossing you on the bed. This will do.”

 His hand separated her legs and touched her heat, causing her to cry out. Before her cry ended, his cock replaced his hand, and he thrust home with no mercy, just as she’d asked.

 It was indeed a hot, hard, and fast coupling. Shadow drove into her like he was in a race, and Chantrea was the ridden one. She loved it. She dug her nails into the arms of her favorite chair, begging him in any language for more and harder strokes until she felt the tremors.

 She didn’t care who heard her cries as his balls bounced against her clit and caressed it once more before they moved up toward his own ecstasy. She screeched, unable to form words, as her world coalesced into pleasure.

 Shadow’s breathing became shallow and fast and it felt as if he were going to push her right off the back of the armchair and into the seat cushions. With one final thrust, he let go of his own pleasure.

 Tiny, short thrusts told her he shot deep within her, and she smiled in satisfaction.

 When both had rested, and breathing had returned to normal, he carried her to her bed. She made her wings disappear and snuggled into his arms. “I could get to like being a filly.”

 “But will you be mine?”

 She had no answer for that. It was a wish they both shared that could never be.

  

  

  

 Chapter Eight

  

 The Council listened quietly when Shadow made his report. He read the translation aloud, and Chantrea stepped forward to verify its accuracy.

 Each councilor reacted according to their nature. Lord Arion nodded and smiled proudly that the Elves had indeed provided the information. Councilor Le-An repeated the wording to make sure she completely understood. Councilor Aahz, the Werewolf, and the Vampire High Priestess Jeanette questioned the circumstances where fighting would not be necessary. When all questions had been answered, Le-An stood and opened her mouth, probably to propose formal acceptance of this change in policy.

 Just as Shadow expected, Durham stepped forward and demanded to be heard. “I have evidence this so-called proof is false!” As usual, his dramatic, mind-spoken shout engendered sighs from the Council.

 Shadow did his best to project confidence. “Present your evidence, then.” From his position as the Unicorn representative, he still led the Council. “However, I ask that you not shout your mind speech. We can hear you well enough.”

 Durham arrogantly ignored the rebuke and made no apology. He did, however, modify his tone. “I believe this report should be declared a falsehood based upon the fact that Shadow has entered into a sexual relationship with the Elf historian. I question her objectivity, and believe they created this document out of nothing but thin air!”

 Shadow watched Chantrea vibrate with anger, but she bit her lip and did not speak. They had agreed to wait and see what the Council had to say.

 Lord Arion snickered. “What has sex got to do with anything? I do not question my niece’s integrity or her professionalism.” That got him a grateful look from Chantrea.

 Le-An rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Unfortunately, there are those who may treat this differently. It is entirely possible for a female’s emotions to influence her work.” She held up her hands to ward off the gasps of outrage that came from the other female councilors. “I am female myself, if you have not noticed. I have let my emotions influence my judgment a time or two. If you will be honest with yourselves, you will agree this is possible.”

 There were a few chagrined nods. Councilor Asa hopped forward and was recognized. “With great apologies to the Elven historian,” she bowed in Chantrea’s direction, “I must ask if she has further proof of the authenticity of the document in question.”

 Chantrea stepped forward until she stood in the center. “I understand your request, Councilor. I have asked for further clarification, and expect word within the next day or two. My source of the document is difficult to contact.”

 Le-An nodded. “Then we must wait. That’s reasonable.”

 She might have said more, had it not been for the appearance of a Werewolf, barely out of cubhood, who ran directly into the center. He did not even acknowledge Councilor Aahz, but went directly to Shadow. All heard his public mind shout. “Shadow! Come quick! Mama’s dying!”

 Shadow did not wait to dismiss the Council. He scooped up the Werewolf with one arm, yanked Chantrea to his side with the other, and teleported.

 * * *

 The silence of the main cavern was broken only by the occasional sob from one of the many who’d gathered. Many were in humanoid or Vampire form, though a few kept to their natural shapes.

 Chantrea staggered as Shadow put her and the wolf cub down simultaneously. He ran down a dark corridor as if chased by dragons.

 In fact, she saw the venerable old Dragon who was called simply “Red” standing near the great fireplace. He stared forlornly at a large chess game set to one side of a blue chair.

 “Uncle Red knows that when Mama dies, Father will follow,” said a voice at her elbow. Chantrea surmised the Werewolf cub had changed to a more convenient form. The adolescent boy who stood next to her had the luminescent eyes of a Werewolf, confirming her guess.

 “I take it Red plays chess with the Herd Stallion?” She scanned the room, looking for familiar faces.

 A dry sob wracked the boy. Chantrea took him in her arms. “Yes, ma’am. Father taught me how to play, too.”

 “Then why don’t you propose to Red that perhaps he might continue your education? I’m sure he’ll wish to do it in memorial.”

 The boy shot her a grateful look, wiped his eyes, and marched over to Red.

 “That was a kind thing you just did.”

 The voice behind her was easily recognizable. Chantrea turned and gave a short bow to Councilor Le-An. The mysterious and ageless brunette patted Chantrea on the shoulder. “Forgive me for saying what I did in Council, Historian. I had to. I want this new policy to stick with no question. Do you understand that?”

 “Of course I do. What I said was the truth, Councilor. I am seeking verification from the source.” Chantrea sighed and returned to scanning the room. “Who are all these beings?”

 Le-An glanced around the room. “Most of them are the adopted and fostered children of Tanne and Kella, with their mates, and offspring, too. A few are patients who were cured of their wounds and ills.”

 Chantrea watched a Vampire woman lean into the arms of a Unicorn and sob bitterly. What looked to be an entire pack of Werewolves, led by none other than Aahz himself, howled softly in a corner.

 “I’m going to go make the biggest cauldron of tea I can find and start serving. You want to help?” Le-An didn’t wait for an answer, but took Chantrea by the arm and propelled her into the kitchen.

 A sobbing Vampire woman stirred a kettle, occasionally stopping to blow her nose on a sodden handkerchief. Le-An thanked her and threw her out. “Go comfort Jona, Nina! Out!”

 Her brisk, acerbic manner put some spine into Nina. “He’s back with Mama, Papa Le-An.” She snuffled wetly and looked at the wet cloth in her hand. Chantrea produced a clean handkerchief using her Elven magic and gently traded with Nina.

 “Papa Le-An?” The words were out of Chantrea’s mouth before she could stop herself.

 Le-An looked somewhat embarrassed, but Nina gave a weak chuckle. “Le-An doesn’t make a big deal of it, but she’s got over forty forms, and she can manifest each form in both genders. Le-An fathered me on my biological mother. When my mother abandoned me, Le-An wisely gave me to Mama Kella to raise.” Nina hugged the red-faced Le-An. “I call Le-An ‘Papa’ just to tease her.”

 Le-An hugged back. “And I threaten to turn male and spank her, constantly. Does no good. It definitely was better to give you to Kella. She needed you.” The last words were choked out.

 Chantrea watched the crusty and acerbic councilor, who never seemed to lose control, tear up. It seemed appropriate, so she joined the hug, gathering them both in and allowing them time to mourn.

 Le-An, who was shorter than the other two females, finally ended the hug. Placing her hands on her hips, she fussed at them both. “And why aren’t either of you out there, cuddling with your mates and soothing their aching hearts?”

 Nina answered first while Chantrea struggled to find the polite way to deny her place in Shadow’s heart. “Mama’s room is crowded enough with healers fighting to hold on to her. Brolly collapsed and has been put to bed. Jona holds her now, and with Shadow to feed him power, we might yet save her.”

 “I… I am not Shadow’s mate,” Chantrea whispered, determined to save him embarrassment. “I’m just his lover for now.”

 “Nonsense, Elf-girl. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. It’s about time, too! I was beginning to wonder if he’d ever find a mate who could match his intelligence and love of the written word.” Le-An turned both of them around smartly and smacked each on the ass, causing squeaks of surprise. “Now, get to your mates. I’ve seen enough death to last me many lifetimes. I can make tea alone. Beat it!” Both girls were shoved out the door and it slammed behind them.

 Nina glared at the door. “I’ll get you for this, Papa! I know you just want to have a nice cry in peace while pretending to stir the cauldron. You hate kitchen work!”

 A muffled curse and “Shut up!” filtered through the door.

 Nina turned and half-grinned to Chantrea. “There! I’ve made my point. Let’s go see to our mates, sister.” At Chantrea’s tentative nod, Nina grabbed her elbow. “This way.”

 They walked to the entrance of the corridor where Shadow had run. An unholy wail sounded down the corridor. The shouted, “Noooo!” lingered, torn from a raw, masculine throat. Then there was silence.

 Nina skidded to a halt and sobbed. “Too late!”

 Shadow and a black-haired Vampire male trudged through the door, holding each other up. Shadow glowed visibly with magic. Both males bore the tracks of tears. It shook Chantrea to the core to see Shadow lose his legendary elegance and calm. He seemed to fight for the strength to go on.

 “Oh, damn. They’re both gone. Jona!” Nina cried harder and ran to the Vampire’s arms.

 Jona gathered his mate to him, even though he looked bowed under by grief himself. He looked at Shadow. “Better you than me, brother.”

 Chantrea approached Shadow hesitantly. “Shadow, why are you glowing like that?”

 Shadow’s stormy eyes had turned silver. “Until another defeats me, I am Herd Stallion.” He snatched up Chantrea’s hand, and she felt the pulse of power. “Please don’t leave me.” It was a cry from his bereft heart.

 Chantrea heard the plea in his voice and prayed for strength. He needed her there. She clasped his hand in both of hers. “For as long as you need me, I’ll be here.”

 The love flowed between them. Shadow’s eyes still shone with that unearthly light, and standing next to him was like bathing in sunlight. Chantrea marveled that one being, regardless of his nature, could hold that much power. Even as she watched, the glow settled as if being absorbed by his skin, until nothing more than the silver of his eyes remained to tell of the transfer of power.

 “Excuse me, Shad.” The one named Jona was back, looking apologetic. “Forgive me for interrupting, but you are needed.” He jerked his head toward the main cavern.

 Chantrea’s sensitive ears could hear the sounds of heartfelt sorrow, but also more voices rising in fear.

 “Rumor has swift wings, my brother.” Jona clamped his hand on Shadow’s arm. “It has not gone unnoticed that you have a challenger for Herd Stallion, and they know who.” Jona’s Vampire nature showed in his snarl and bared fangs. “The son of Talamar must not rule. Now get out there and show them who holds power until the day of challenge.” He turned and strode back to the main cavern.

 Chantrea gasped at the snarling hatred in Jona’s voice. She glanced at Shadow, whose jaw was clamped. “But, Shadow! You…”

 Shadow quickly put his fingers over Chantrea’s mouth. “This is not the time for revelations, my love.” His urgent whisper made her hold her peace. “Jona is the one who killed Talamar, to save us all. He had more reason than most to hate. Let’s not burden him with the ugly news that I, too, am Talamar’s son.”

 “It was never recorded, the name of the stallion who killed Talamar! Only that it was a Vampire in the guise of a mysterious stallion. It was Jona? Truly?”

 “Truly.” Shadow sighed. “And now, like it or not, I must be Herd Stallion to prevent a race war, until another defeats me. Stand by me, and look at me without fear, if you can.”

 Chantrea knew humor was not appropriate, but she knew also Shadow needed to see she was with him. She impishly bowed. “Then let me be the first to bow before you.”

 Her reward was a chuckle, and a whisper. “As if you bow before anyone you don’t choose to!”

 Then he squared his shoulders and regally stepped into the cavern as Jona shouted, “Beings of the Valley! Behold the new Herd Stallion!”

 Shadow glowed once more, before changing to his equine form. Chantrea and the whole assembly gasped at Shadow’s new form, that of a silver stallion.

  

  

  

 Chapter Nine

  

 “Damn, what an entrance!” Jona’s awed mutter from the other side of the cavern entrance was audible only to Chantrea and Nina. Nina elbowed him in the ribs.

 Chantrea slipped over to the side, and melted into the crowd, just in time for all to recover from their shock and make obeisance. She was acutely aware the tunic and pants she wore, while appropriate to appear before the Council, were not appropriate to appear at Shadow’s side when he looked that magnificent. Nerves made her play with her braids.

 Shadow looked out among the crowd, and seemed to make eye contact with every being there. His magically enhanced mind voice boomed out, confident and regal. “I hereby call an emergency session of the Valley Council tomorrow morning at dawn. Tonight, we will send Tanne Brae and Kellarashina to their rest.”

 Chantrea spent the rest of the day and into the evening in the kitchen making endless cauldrons of tea, for the work of the healers who tended the ill and wounded did not end. The assembled crowd moved outside in deference to those who still needed a healer’s care.

 Outside the cavern in the great meadow, two biers held the remains of Tanne Brae and his beloved mate. By now, word had filtered even to the kitchen how Tanne had literally willed himself to die next to his mate when she gasped her last.

 One pretty Unicorn girl in healer blue sniffled over a cup of tea in the kitchen with Chantrea. “It was how Father wanted to go. He lived for her, and no other, all his life. Mama had given up everything to be with him, and even fought to protect us all. I only wish Chirion and Vena were here.”

 “Please, where is Chirion? I know he’s Shadow’s brother and that is all.” Chantrea was willing to be an ear to the lavender-eyed filly.

 “Mama only had one child of her body and Tanne’s. Chirion. He and Vena left the Valley as soon as they were old enough to do so. They knew their kind wouldn’t be welcome here, even after Father became Herd Stallion.” The filly sipped her tea with a pout. “They live among humans, of all things! As if the offspring of Vampires and Unicorns would be more welcome there!” She sniffed derisively.

 More might have been said, but shouting arose to disturb the cavern once more. The filly ran to the door of the kitchen, ready to demand quiet. She flung open the door, and stopped dead in her tracks. “Chirion! Vena!” She disappeared into the next room.

 Chantrea sighed and got two more mugs from the large collection that had been washed earlier. She filled them with tea, and placed honey on the tray as well. “I want to go home! I want my peaceful archives. I don’t want to carry endless trays to mourners anymore.” She carried the tray out the door, and nearly bobbled the tea onto the floor.

 The ones who had to be Chirion and Vena stood head and shoulders above all the rest. They took off their packs and gave them to many willing hands. Half Vampire and half Unicorn was right! Chirion was a powerfully built, red-haired man, and the bottom half of his body was chestnut equine. Vena had black hair and a black equine body. Centaurs. They were Centaurs.

 Chirion spotted Chantrea, where she stood rooted to the spot, staring. “Tea! Thank the Goddess for you!” He trotted over and took the tray before winking and saying quietly, “Close your mouth, pretty Elf. You could catch flies in that.” He then walked back to hand one mug to Vena.

 Chantrea closed her mouth with a snap and fled for home. It was too much. “You are such a coward, Chantrea!” She ran across the grassy meadow, blessing the night that hid her from the sight of the crowd now beginning to fire the torches to burn the bodies. “Is it so great a burden to remain and show kindness, even when surrounded by more people than you see in a season at your father’s court?”

 She stormed into her tree and began to strip off her clothes. “Coward! You got so used to being alone that you couldn’t bear that many people. Where is your good sense?” She stopped on her way to the baths and returned to snatch up her basket and towel.

 “Now what are you going to do? How will you explain to Shadow that you couldn’t bear it anymore? Mate of the Herd Stallion. Hah! Your mother never deserted your father, did she?”

 Her self-loathing was borne in silence as the other Elves using the facilities sported, tossed a mage-ball, swam, and talked in subdued tones. After trying to entice her to join their play, the Elves left her alone to brood. Soon, she couldn’t stand even the company of her own kind, and she departed for her lonely bed.

 Even her bed turned out to be no comfort at all. Not only could she envision Shadow beside her, the pillow held the pleasant aroma of Unicorn. She buried her nose in the softness and breathed deeply. Hugging it to her, Chantrea began to cry.

 “Here now, why are you crying?” Large, warm hands stroked her hair.

 Chantrea gasped and rolled over. Shadow stood at her bedside, looking weary, his now silver eyes glowing in the darkness. Without thought, she leapt into his arms, sobbing wildly.

 Shadow cuddled her close and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry it took so long to get away, my dove.” His soft murmur in her hair was like a balm to her aching heart. “All I could think of all this horrible day and night was getting away to your peaceful tree. I needed you so badly, but I was afraid you’d be angry that I couldn’t spend time with you.”

 Chantrea sniffled into his chest and clung tighter. “Really? I felt so guilty because I couldn’t bear the crowd.”

 “Really. I saw you leave while I supervised the funerary pyres. Oh, how I envied you! I had to be strong and pretend dignity when I wanted to go somewhere quiet and mourn, just you and I. Gods, I’m going to miss them.”

 They clung together in the silent darkness. When her heart had eased, Chantrea decided Shadow needed coddling. “Come, my darling. Come downstairs and let me feed you. No doubt you’ve had little to eat or drink, all day.” She deliberately allowed humor into her voice. “After all, the Herd Stallion must be above such things as hunger and thirst!”

 She got a weak chuckle for her pains. “Well, I can admit to you I’m starving. I couldn’t very well just start grazing near the biers, though Le-An snuck me a few pieces of apple in the darkness.” He followed her down the stairs.

 “Oh, my poor Shadow!” She manifested her finest Elven wine in front of him. “You just wait a moment!”

 In a matter of minutes, they both sat down to a fine feast of salad, fruit, and a wheel of cheese. As soon as Shadow finished one course, another appeared on the table, ending with a large roll of briocha Chantrea split in two and shared with him.

 While Shadow ate like the starving male he was, Chantrea toyed with her wine. She pondered long and hard how to ask the one question burning in her brain. Finally, she gave up and simply asked. “Shadow, why did your father die? I know your mother was ill, but Tanne Brae was perfectly healthy.”

 Shadow sighed, and bit into his briocha . “We don’t even know why Mother died, really. Brolly healed the brainstorm. But they couldn’t stop her from slowly fading away. It was as if her body stopped functioning, one bit at a time.”

 “But that doesn’t explain your father’s death.”

 Shadow nodded and stared at the table. “I know why Father died. When Brolly collapsed and was carried away, Father took over the healing. Even his formidable powers couldn’t stop it. He gave everything he had, and drained himself to the dregs.”

 Chantrea sipped her wine and thought. “I see. Unicorns live as long as they want. But they have to want to live. Drained as he was, it would have been no effort to will himself into death.”

 Shadow nodded silently, and his silver eyes welled up with tears. “I don’t blame him.” He grasped Chantrea’s free hand. “Now that I know what it is to love, I understand not wanting to live without that love.”

 Chantrea stared at his hand. Finally, she choked out, “I’ll always be here in my tree, waiting for you, Shadow. When you have time for me.” She ignored his intake of breath, and forced a cheerful expression on her face. “Speaking of time! It is late in the night and you called a dawn Council.” She pointed up the stairs. “To bed with you! You’ll need all your wits tomorrow.” She tugged on his hand until he stood, grinning. Chantrea kept her tone imperious yet full of humor. “You may be Herd Stallion out there, but my mate needs sleep and I don’t care what his rank is! Trot!”

 Chuckling, Shadow scooped her up in his arms. “Very well. But I shall need my comforts, and you top the list!” He carried her up the stairs. She barely had time to whistle out a request that the Sprites awaken them at false dawn.

 * * *

 Shadow awoke to a Sprite sitting on his chest. The tiny female tugged on his sparse chest hairs. She twinkled and pointed to the night sky, where false dawn lit the east. Another Sprite tugged on Chantrea’s hair with little result.

 “I’ll do it. Here. Thank you.” He manifested a rosebud just beginning to open. The Sprites twinkled an answer, and carried their prize out the window. He wondered if they ate them or something.

 Slipping out of bed, he took care of his morning ablutions and returned with a tray bearing tea and the leftover briocha . He set a warming spell to keep them, and departed silently.

 He didn’t want Chantrea to be there this morning. He knew what was going to happen. He trotted into the meadow and was unsurprised to see Durham and his cronies waiting. News could fly faster than a hummingbird.

 One of Durham’s friends, a young stallion named Koran, whistled through his horn. “Don’t you look fine! So, the rumor is true, eh, Shadow? Tanne is dead?”

 Durham sniggered. “Yeah, dead beside his lowly mate.” His tone was so sarcastic and derisive, Shadow was momentarily taken aback. “You shouldn’t play with other lower species, Shadow. And we all know you do.”

 Shadow saw the ploy. Durham wanted to goad him into fighting, here and now, outside of the supervision of the Council. It would be easier to cheat. However, the tables could be turned! He laughed. “Every chance I get, dear brother of mine.”

 Everyone but Durham gasped. “Brother?” Koran choked.

 Shadow chuckled. The game had begun. “Of course, didn’t you know? Both Durham and I were sired by Talamar.”

 Durham snarled like a Werewolf through his horn. An interesting trick. “Yes, but you were abandoned and never acknowledged by Talamar!”

 Shadow rolled his eyes. “Yes, thanks to all goodness! I’m very glad to have been raised and trained by Tanne Brae instead of the Black Tyrant.” He was enjoying this.

 One of the younger stallions Shadow didn’t know stepped back a few feet. “I have no further objections to your being Herd Stallion, then.”

 Durham turned on his former compatriot, enraged. “You supported me!”

 The stallion turned a placid eye on Durham. “You said yourself that a son of the last Herd Stallion to win a place by battle should be the new Herd Stallion. This, I agreed with. A son of that Stallion does hold the honor.” If he could have folded his arms in front of him like a human, he might have done so. “Prove to me you are better than one who is the son of Talamar and who has been trained in leadership.”

 Durham swung his horn to Shadow before shouting, “He believes in equality of the species! He fucks other species! It’s sick!”

 “At least I’m not hard-up with a case of blue balls,” Shadow drawled. “As a matter of fact, I enjoy the company of other species. Fascinating conversations, soaking in delightful hot springs, and things to challenge the mind.” He paused and deliberately taunted Durham. “Surely you don’t believe their intelligence is any less than ours. Or are you looking to be a god again, Durham?”

 Durham tossed his head and snorted. “Whatever it takes, Shadow.”

 Shadow heard a collective gasp behind him and turned to find the entire Council standing at the edge of the meadow, some with their mouths hanging open.

  

  

  

 Chapter Ten

  

 Shadow deliberately turned his back to Durham in a calculated insult and took his place as Herd Stallion. Shadow felt he’d made his point to the Council.

 The Council, some showing eyes still white with shock, took their places. Le-An was the only one who showed no fear or surprise. She even winked at Shadow as she took her place in a chair made from a single boulder.

 When the councilors had recovered some of their aplomb, Shadow called the Council into session. “As you may all be aware, Tanne Brae passed yesterday,” he began. He got no further.

 Durham leapt into the center of the circle. “And we challenge your right to be Herd Stallion!”

 “Do you have a frog hidden in your mane?” Le-An laughed.

 Durham looked at his cronies. Most had slunk away. Koran remained, but shook his head. “I won’t help you win against your own brother, Durham. This is not what you stood for.”

 Durham turned back to face Shadow, shaking with fury. In private mind speech, he said, “I’ll get them later, the cowards.” Aloud, he shouted, “Fine then! I challenge you!”

 “That is your right, Durham. It is three days until Solstice. Traditionally, there’s at least a day given to prepare.”

 “Buck tradition! You do, anytime you please. I want to fight now! I don’t want to give you any more time to wiggle your way out of it.” Durham was close to lathering, he was so angry. His black coat shone with sweat, and he pawed the ground in front of him.

 Shadow made a quick glance around the Council. Most were still reeling from Durham’s revelation that he wanted to return Unicorns to the demi-deity state they’d had under Talamar. Others stared at Durham with looks bordering on pure hatred.

 “Lord Arion?”

 The Elf councilor turned his glare from Durham and nodded.

 “Have you sufficient rank to officiate?”

 Lord Arion stood. “I do!”

 “Then let’s move out into the meadow, where there’s more open space, shall we?” Shadow walked with calm dignity beyond the Council circle. As he passed Durham, he mind spoke privately, “Come along, little brother. If you are so anxious for this, then let’s flout tradition together.”

 * * *

 Chantrea awoke with a small cry, just as the sun rose. The pillow Shadow had used was cool to the touch. “You left without me! I’ll get you for this.”

 She dressed and ran downstairs, whistling for her Sprite friends. In no time at all, she was garbed appropriately. Standing in front of her mirror, she frowned in disapproval. “Something’s wrong. This isn’t right, somehow. What’s wrong?” She shook out her green gown and studied her hair. She looked as good as any other Elf at her father’s court. Then her eyes flew open. “Elf! Damn! Elf! That’s the problem. If I’m to be recognized as the loving consort to the Herd Stallion, then I must truly be that consort!”

 She paced, slapping her hairbrush in her palm. “I’ve never tried. Can I do this? What can it hurt? If I fail, then I’ll stay here and… No, I won’t! I’ll go anyway! Who cares if I’m an Elf? Oh, thunder! I do.” She checked the sun, now showing its brightness on the cliff wall. She was out of time. She’d have to try.

 Chantrea shoved her furniture against the walls, disregarding its fragility. Then she stood in the center and tried her very true first shape shift. She checked in the mirror and began to laugh. “No! No!” She shook her finger at herself in the mirror. “Not like Chirion and Vena! All the way!” Her candy-pink equine half was pretty, but she needed the entire body to be equine, not just the back half.

 She concentrated again. This time her very bones crackled, and she gritted her teeth in pain. It hurt! Goddess, it hurt so much. Her back strained, and she thought her head would burst. Her eyes hurt, even after the pain stopped. They had to hurt. She was having trouble seeing what was directly in front of her. Her head felt heavy. She stood, panting.

 “Very good!” A feminine voice, piping and sweet, came from behind her.

 Chantrea whipped around until she could see who had spoken. In the mirror was the face of a huge white tiger with blue eyes.

 “Not bad for a first shift, sweet one. Shall I come help you?” The tiger put one paw out and gracefully padded through the mirror.

 “MoonTyger! I’m so glad to see you!” Her mouth wouldn’t work well, but she could mind speak.

 The tiger stretched as only felines can, and then washed a paw delicately. “I am glad to see you, as well. Stop trying to use your mouth to talk. Use mind speech. You look like you are chewing something. That is not what a lady does.”

 MoonTyger’s accent was as dulcet as bells, but easy to follow. Chantrea laughed, and a whicker came out. “Did I succeed? Am I a Unicorn?”

 “You must tell me.” MoonTyger moved away from the mirror.

 A pink Unicorn with a very long mane and tail stared back at Chantrea. Well, that was appropriate. “Not bad. I didn’t realize these horns were so heavy.”

 MoonTyger purred for a moment. “In my home, if you please, the horns of the Kirinn are hollow. Is yours hollow?” Her huge sapphire blue eyes studied Chantrea’s carefully. “No? Then, with your permission, I will help you.”

 “Yes, please.”

 One of those massive paws struck Chantrea’s horn before she could move or blink. A tingle of magic followed and traveled down her horn to her forehead. Chantrea’s head snapped upward as if a great weight had been removed. Her “Oh!” of surprise came out as a whistle from her now hollow horn.

 MoonTyger sat back on her haunches, satisfaction radiating from her. “Now that you are more comfortable, you will perhaps tell me why others dispute the word of a historian? I am most annoyed at this insult.”

 “So am I! May I explain on the way to the Council? I’m hoping to avert a war by bringing you to them quickly.”

 “War is a blight reserved for humans.” MoonTyger rose and padded to the door. “Yes, tell me on the way.”

 * * *

 Shadow and Durham faced off in the open meadow and waited for Lord Arion to cast the traditional magic circle. It allowed no outside interference or aid, as well as protecting those witnessing the event from the odd fireball.

 Durham pranced, pawed the ground, and wasted energy. Shadow yawned and tried to look bored. Inside, he was torn. Durham was his own brother, the last of his blood kin. He felt no love for Durham, but that was to be expected. The irony of finding out the colt who had bullied him when they were young was his relation was not lost on Shadow. However satisfying it might be to those coltish memories to take his revenge, he would beat Durham to a defeat, not a bloody pulp.

 “Are you ready to die, brother?” Durham’s overly dramatic challenge only made Shadow chuckle.

 Silence was his weapon now. Let Durham act the fool. Lord Arion was calling out the traditional rules. No shape shifting, no using bystanders in any manner, no teleporting, and only the energies contained within oneself for magic. The magic circle Lord Arion cast would cut them both off from the Valley and from outside aid. Aside from the combatants, only Lord Arion was permitted inside the circle.

 The shield wall went up first, mildly distorting the view of the crowd, now gathering by the hundreds. Many were still running up, others teleporting in.

 A glimpse of pink and white caught his eye. Who was the pink filly? What was that beside her? A white tiger? His heart leapt. A tiger? MoonTyger? Then the pink filly was Chantrea? His mind caught up with his racing heart, and a memory came to him. Chantrea’s voice last night, saying, “My mate needs sleep…”

 Durham pranced and pawed the ground. Shadow kept a wary eye on him. He wouldn’t put it past Durham to cheat in his exuberance and begin early. He wanted so badly to continue to stare at Chantrea until she felt his love pouring out.

 Why hadn’t he noticed that last night? Joy raced through him even as his connection with the Valley closed off with the activation of the circle. She loved him and accepted her place beside him. He looked again at his beautiful pink filly. His. Nothing could provide him with more incentive to win.

 Lord Arion was smart enough to stay near the edge and simply call out, “Begin!”

 Predictably, Durham charged, horn down.

 Shadow danced out of the way, and tried not to laugh. However much it might incense Durham further, it wasted breath best used for fighting. He couldn’t laugh, but he could whistle through his horn. His jaunty tune enraged Durham.

 There was a short clash of rearing bodies and flashing hooves. Durham nearly got a nasty bite in on Shadow’s neck, but a shove with a foreleg broke the deadlock.

 Durham didn’t get away completely unscathed. His chest now bore a muddy imprint of Shadow’s hoof that would surely bruise. The black and white stallion took a moment to walk off the pain, while Shadow continued to whistle some little ditty his mother had sung.

 Durham mind spoke privately, “Who is the pink filly I saw you looking at, Shadow? Your next little conquest, perhaps? Are you already tired of the filthy little Elf?”

 Shadow was hard-pressed to keep to his plan of silence. He wanted desperately to answer. Instead, he forced his mind to a calm state, making his muscles fluid and ready for the slightest command.

 Durham looked again at Chantrea. “I don’t recognize her. She must be one of the outcasts or loners. When I’m Herd Stallion, I’ll insist that all our people come back and share in herd life. They need to be with their own kind.” He danced in place and reared. A display move, it had no real value except to look pretty and aggressive all at once. “Pink isn’t my favorite color, but she’ll do as part of my harem. I don’t have to like them, after all.”

 Durham’s rear became a crow-hop, and he danced on his back legs toward Shadow. Shadow laughed to himself, and pretended to turn to run. Durham bought the ploy, and received a vicious blow when Shadow leapt off the ground. Shadow delivered a wicked kick that landed on Durham’s withers, judging by the “Oomph!”

 Shadow turned and shook his head. “No free will, Durham? No rights of the individual? What a shame.”

 His younger brother was clearly injured and tiring fast. Shadow had to wonder if Durham had so bullied his compatriots that no one would spar and keep him in shape. And where was the magic? Durham hadn’t thrown a single spell.

 “The needs of the herd outweigh the needs of an individual! Why don’t you understand that?” Durham charged again. It was a feint. Shadow saw Durham looking at Shadow’s hooves, not his chest. He doubled his shields, and the entrapment spell bounced off. The magical “rope” lay coiled at the edge of the circle. It would remain there until dispelled.

 Magic it was, then. However, Shadow had an advantage. Cutting him off from the Valley did not negate the energies given him by Tanne. He checked the sun with a glance. Bright and clear. Perfect. Shadow allowed the energies of Herd Stallion to shine through again, turning his coat to silver. He became as reflective as the still lake, too luminescent to look at directly.

 Durham was blinded, temporarily, by the glare. This time he came in low, his horn aiming for Shadow’s vulnerable chest. Shadow kept his own horn high, and whipped out one foreleg in a slashing move. Durham’s head snapped around, and he tripped, rolling on the ground.

 Shadow was on him as soon as he finished rolling. With his horn pointed at Durham’s neck, Shadow used his public mind voice. “Do you yield? Or am I forced to kill you?”

 Durham lay on the ground, panting. He didn’t answer.

 Shadow pushed the point of his horn into Durham’s neck, just enough to draw blood. “Concede, Durham. You lose.”

 “Damn you! I concede.”

  

  

  

 Chapter Eleven

  

 Shadow backed off immediately. Lord Arion announced the victory, and began to take down the shield. Cheers erupted, and he could see many beings waiting for the circle to come down. Yet, Durham did not rise.

 “Get up, Durham. It’s over.” Shadow mind spoke privately and kindly. There was no sense in further hostility.

 “I can’t. I have an injured back leg. Left side.”

 “I’ll get you a healer as soon as the shield is down.” Shadow checked. The shield was nearly at knee height. “It won’t be long.”

 “It would be better if you killed me, you know.” Durham’s private mind speech was laced with pain.

 “I’m not killing my only brother, Durham. Besides, I have a job for you, if you’ll take it.” The shield was now at grass level. Still, the crowd waited politely.

 “What would that be?”

 “Stud stallion. If you think I’m preserving our color line by myself, you’re mad.”

 “What?” The shock in Durham’s mind shout was close to deafening.

 “I’ll tell you later. Once Brolly has had a chance at your leg.”

 “Damn right we have something to talk about. Why didn’t you tell me before that you knew we’d have to continue our line? We might have spared ourselves this whole thing.” He glanced at Chantrea. “That is, if you are giving up interspecies relationships.”

 Brolly, still wan and pale, ran over. “Feed me power, will you, Shad?” He knelt by Durham. “Which leg, pal?”

 “Ouch! Back left. How’d you know?”

 “You think I haven’t watched Shad and the others tumble like you did? Hold still a minute. Don’t fight me.”

 “I’ve had enough fighting.” There was something tired in Durham’s mind voice.

 Shadow turned to the beings that still celebrated. Feeding Brolly the needed energy was effortless, now. Instead of the throng mobbing him as he’d expected, they grew silent and respectful. As he watched, they parted and formed an aisle.

 First came the Council, who all processed forward and bowed before stepping aside. Shadow tried not to reveal his embarrassment at this display of respect.

 Next up the aisle padded the white tiger along with the pink Unicorn. Chantrea’s green eyes winked at him, and he gave her a loving mental caress before focusing on the blue eyes of the huge predator before him.

 Shadow dipped his horn respectfully. “Lady MoonTyger, I presume?”

 MoonTyger nodded politely in acknowledgement. “So I am. It appears the need for me to corroborate the translation of my scroll is moot.”

 She turned to Durham, who stood shakily on his feet with Brolly. “I will expect an apology from you later.”

 Durham hung his head. “You will have it.”

 Shadow eyed his humbled brother sharply. This did not sound like his antagonist at all.

 Durham winked and flashed a quick private thought. “We will talk later, and I will explain. Right now, you have some duties ahead of you. I’ll be around. You’ve won, for now. I’ll play the game of the defeated, with grace.”

 Surprisingly, Durham changed form to human. Then he and Brolly strolled off together. Durham still limped, which may have explained why Brolly held on so tightly. Then again, perhaps not. Shadow chuckled. “Well, well.”

 Shadow took one last moment to nuzzle Chantrea before trotting forward to claim his place as Herd Stallion. Chantrea trotted right beside him, her long tail flagging beautifully. It was all he could do to keep his mind on business and convene the Council.

 There was no need to confirm his victory and right to be Herd Stallion, but each councilor took a moment to congratulate him before all turned expectant eyes to MoonTyger.

 Regally as any cat, MoonTyger stepped forward, commanding respect simply by being whom and what she was. “I have heard that you wish confirmation of the document my colleague Chantrea translated for you. I am the author of that document. I myself have witnessed the migration of the Kirinn, who are your ancestor race. For a millennium, I recorded it. I can assure you that there are more abdications to worthy successors than fights.”

 Councilor Le-An stood. “Forgive me, Lady. Who are you and where do you come from? This was not explained well to me.”

 MoonTyger eyed Le-An for a moment. “I am MoonTyger, historian for the Enchanted Forest, many leagues’ journey from here in the East. Did you think you were the only haven for magical creatures?”

 The stunned silence that greeted her pronouncement was profound.

 Le-An cleared her throat. “Uh, well, yes, actually, we did.”

 “It is time you knew. We have preferred our isolation up to now, but that is at an end. Permit me, then, to introduce you.” MoonTyger’s form changed to that of a human woman in her prime, with long black hair, golden skin, and eyes as slanted as an Elf’s. Her clothing was full, long, and richly colored. She pulled a slender curved sword from its sheath on her back, and drew a huge circle in the air in front of her.

 Shadow was amazed to see a forest appear within the circle, lush with plant life, and clearly surrounded by mist-covered mountains in the distance.

 Creatures lounged or moved about in the distant forest, until they noticed the spell. Some, Shadow could not identify or describe. Others bore a striking resemblance to MoonTyger, with golden skin, black hair, and Elven eyes. A cloud with eyes floated into the spell area.

 Another creature fascinated Shadow more than any other; a pure white being that walked on four legs, with a horn in the center of its forehead. Yet it was not equine. Its companion was a bright red dragon so sinuous and lithe, it was almost snake-like.

 “Meet the beings of my home.” MoonTyger sheathed her sword while the creatures in the spell bowed.

 Le-An, Lord Arion, Shadow, and High Priestess Jeanette all recovered enough to bow back, and got smiles in return.

 The white being with the horn stepped forward. “Greetings to my cousins.” His mind voice was deep and resonant. He looked directly at Shadow and Chantrea. “I am a Kirinn.”

 Shadow stepped forward and bowed again. “Greetings to you, cousin.” What was a Kirinn made of? They didn’t appear equine, yet he could see the horn. He knew, somehow deep in his bones, that there was a relation. But how?

 The cloud with eyes moved forward as the Kirinn stepped back. “I too greet my cousins.” His eyes fell on Lady Jeannette. “I am a Gaki. I am what you would call a Vampire.”

 Jeanette moved woodenly to stand before the Gaki. “I take it you… eat… blood too?”

 The Gaki changed into a short, lithe young man very similar in coloration to MoonTyger. He stepped through the spell as if it were a gateway and took Jeanette’s hand. “I do. I have been elected Ambassador.” He bowed. “Shall we discuss this over a meal? I love to hunt.”

 He took the stunned Jeanette by the arm, as courtly as any noble, and led her away.

 Chantrea whispered irrepressibly in Shadow’s mind. “Oh, that charmer is going to be very popular. I can see why he was elected.”

 It was everything Shadow could do not to laugh. He maintained his dignity while MoonTyger introduced the others. When MoonTyger showed signs of weariness from holding the portal open, Shadow respectfully suggested that the portal be closed for now until an Ambassador could be elected to cross to the Enchanted Forest. Both sides gratefully accepted this, and the gate was closed, with promises of visits next time.

 Le-An suggested that the Council adjourn until the next day. “We have been truly smacked in the forehead today. Let’s take some time to assimilate this. I, for one, must decide which of a thousand questions to ask MoonTyger.”

 MoonTyger, now back in her feline form, agreed. Council was closed, though no one left. An impromptu party began, with MoonTyger clearly the guest of honor. Food appeared, courtesy of the Elves and others.

 It was a blessed relief to Shadow that his victory had been superseded by the revelations MoonTyger had revealed. These few moments when the denizens of the Valley’s interests were focused elsewhere were a cherished respite. Today, he was free of the confines of ruling. He’d take advantage of an opportunity that might not come his way again for some time.

 Shadow whispered to Chantrea, “Let’s go find Durham and Brolly. I need to know more about his change of heart. It makes no sense.” They eased their way out of the Council meadow.

 It wasn’t difficult to find Durham and Brolly, lounging in the shade of an oak in sight of the Council meadow.

 Brolly hailed Shadow in private mind speech, as soon as they stepped out of the crowd. “Over here, Hayburner! We’ve been having a discussion. I assume you’d like to be in on this. Durham has been asking me a lot of questions about you and our family.” He heard Shadow’s unspoken question and laughed. “You thought I’d be that promiscuous? No, brother mine. He’s not my type, and I don’t have the right equipment to attract him.”

 Shadow and Chantrea cantered over, and Shadow assumed his human form.

 Chantrea demurred, and folded herself down to the ground. “It’s difficult for me to shape shift. I’ll stay like this, thanks.”

 Shadow got right to the point. “Okay, Durham. That was quite a turnaround you did. Why?”

 “All I have been told since birth was that I must continue our line. I didn’t think you had the balls for it. You were Talamar’s rejected offspring. I believed I was the better stallion. You proved me wrong today, brother.” It was the first time his use of the familial term was respectful, even friendly.

 “I still don’t get it. Why the change of heart?”

 Durham sighed. “Look, you and I are the last of the black line. Other than Chirion, we are also the last of the white line, if you haven’t noticed. And I don’t think he counts, being a half… er, hybrid.” He stared off into the sky for a moment, and seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “I thought I’d be saddled with the responsibility for both lines. I thought you’d be just like Tanne and take a mate from some other race.”

 Shadow laughed when Durham eyed Chantrea. “I did, brother. But she made a true shape shift. She’s all Unicorn. Didn’t Talamar ever teach you that? When you make a real shift, you are that race completely?”

 “Yes, he did. However, I’m concerned. How can we be sure that any offspring are indeed purely that race? Are we mixing the races and losing our heritage?”

 “And what of the other races, Durham? What about their heritage? Are they truly less important than we? What heritage are we losing? I can’t see that we’ll be lesser creatures.”

 Durham blew out a breath. “Importance doesn’t enter into it. I’m concerned about what I have control over. I’m concerned about mixing with other species. What will happen when everyone is mixed?”

 “New races form. That is what happens. Thus it says in our histories.” MoonTyger padded up and bowed. “Forgive me. I can hear even private speech, unless I choose not to.”

 “Are you mixed, then, Lady?” Durham asked with careful courtesy, looking at her claws with interest. “And I do owe you an apology. I tender it now.”

 “Of course I am. My great-grandmother was Kirinn with wandering feet. My great-grandfather was a Gryphon. I chose this form as what suits me best. I can be many things.” She eyed him as if he might be a tasty snack, then her eyes softened. “I accept your apology. Honor is restored.”

 “Excuse me.” Chantrea stepped forward. “There is another reason MoonTyger remains.”

 MoonTyger’s eyes were guileless. “Yes. I need to borrow a Unicorn adventurer. Do you have one?” She turned to Shadow, and tilted her head to one side.

 Shadow considered this extraordinary request carefully. “We have a stallion who has, as you put it, wandering feet. He has spent more time out of our Valley than in it for most of his life. We can ask him. I do not order beings about. They must agree. Shall I call for him, if he is available?”

 “Please. He must agree, for my quest will be a long journey. We have missing Kirinn from the Enchanted Forest. This is the reason we have ended our isolation. I will need one who is familiar with the world of humans to guide me. Can he do this?”

 Shadow saw the dark green form of Jamir trotting up. “Why don’t you ask him?” He nodded toward his great-uncle.

 After a short introduction, MoonTyger and Jamir took a walk, chatting amiably.

 Shadow stood, and returned to Unicorn form. “So, Durham, what now? We still disagree.”

 Durham remained seated. “Let’s leave it as we ‘agree to disagree,’ shall we? I’ll do my part to further our line, and leave the governance to you. Let me make this perfectly clear, Shadow. You and your friends have not convinced me that inter-species mating is good. I am still the opposition, but I can’t further my cause if I’m dead in a challenge fight with you. Perhaps, in the fullness of time, I will be proven right to worry. I just pray it won’t be too late to protect the purity of the races.”

 “Fair enough. At least that’s honest.” Shadow watched as Chantrea rose gracefully to her feet. “And now, I have a filly to chase.”

 Chantrea batted green eyes at him. “Until I catch you, handsome.” She took off in a gallop.

 Shadow took off after her, laughing.

  

  

  

 Unicorn Valley 3: Healer’s Heart

  

 What’s a simple Werewolf healer to do when a goddess who can swing both ways, and wants that in a mate, falls in love with him?

  

  

  

 Lena Austin

  

 Lena Austin is a “fallen” society wench with a checkered past. She’s been a licensed minister, hairdresser, realtor, radio DJ, exotic dancer, telephone service tech, live-steel medievalist swordswoman, BDSM Mistress, and investment property manager. Not necessarily in that order. She never finished that degree in archaeology, but did learn to scuba. After a life like that, gardening is pretty restful. Of herself, Lena writes, “I’m tall, presently red-haired, and I look like an unholy mating between an Amazon and a librarian.”

 Visit Lena’s website at www.geocities.com/voiceomt2002/Lena-Austin.htm