“My wife complained of the same.
Four children? You are truly
blessed, Ma’am. I wish you a
trouble-free birth and a healthy
babe.” He softened his gruff tone
and finished with a respectful bow.
He had issues with the Constante
ruler on the Verdantian throne, but
the utmost respect for motherhood.
“Thank you.” She studied him for
a long moment. “House
DeHelios—the first kings and
queens of Verdantia. The First
Tetriarch. Hmm. Your House and
the mountain city, Nyth Uchel, are
so revered by the common people
you are almost fable. All Verdantia
grieved the loss of Nyth Uchel and
the radiant Torre Bianca. We
thought your line dead and Nyth
Uchel razed in the Haarb
massacres. I give heartfelt thanks
to know we are in error. What
brings you down from your
mountain, Sir?”
“Ma’am, it is a dire and
complicated story. I suggest my
tale is best discussed somewhere
more comfortable for you.”
The queen moved her gaze to her
consorts who stood protectively at
either side of her. “Ari? Doral?”
High Lord DeTano nodded. “The
children will be running riot in our
apartments but my office should be
comfortable enough. I would like
DeKieran and Steffania to join
us—and Medica Corvus—attend
the queen, please.” His eyes caught
the tall woman who stood behind
the queen’s chair and the brunette
nodded.
“All right.” Queen Constante
wrestled her ungainly body to a
stand. “Shall we?”
Hel stepped back and held out his
arm to assist her down the steps
but the beautiful blond man moved
forward and swept the slight figure
of the queen into his arms. The two
exchanged a look of such love that
Hel felt he intruded on an intimacy
and he immediately turned away.
The young queen must have seen
his discomfort. She reached out
and touched his arm and Hel
turned back to her.
“Prince DeHelios, my Segundo
dislikes seeing me ‘waddle like a
duck’ and finds it too painful to
watch my slow, ponderous steps.
He says it is necessary to carry me
and I must confess—I rather like
it.” Her playful grin pulled an
answering quirk of lips from Hel
and an arched brow from Doral.
“My preference, my Queen, is that
you forgo walking at all and stay in
bed these last two weeks, but I am
just a poor male whose wishes you
blithely disregard.” Doral
descended the steps and carried his
queen out of the audience hall
followed by High Lord DeTano,
Lord Ramsey and his wife,
Steffania, and the woman called
Adonia. Hel trailed all of them but
clearly heard the queen’s gentle
gurgle of laughter.
“I just like the feel of your arms
around me, my love.”
Hel found it difficult to continue
his dismissal of this sweet-natured,
loving young queen as “that upstart
Constante woman.” Perhaps he
should have come down from his
isolated mountain sooner. He
acknowledged with bitter honesty
that he envied Ari DeTano and
Doral DeLorion. They possessed
what he yearned for—a warm,
passionate woman to love and bear
him children. He’d even settle for
what he’d had before—a marriage
of cold respect if the nursery held
children once more.
Light and warmth, the delectable
smells of baking bread and savory
roasting meats and the lift of happy
voices wafted through the palace
halls. Hel contrasted the inviting
interior of this palace with the
silent, cold gloom of Nyth Uchel.
He promised himself, again, that
he would labor until the city and
his home reclaimed their former
majesty and pulsed with vibrancy
and life—no matter if it took him
the rest of his life to accomplish it.
Chapter Two
Adonia Corvus shook off the
peculiar agitation that had engulfed
her body when she locked eyes
with Prince DeHelios and followed
Ari, Doral and Fleur through the
halls toward Ari’s office. She
pulled her soft wrap closer around
her bony shoulders with a
convulsive shiver. Until almost
two years ago, she had known
nothing but the searing heat of the
Oshtesh wastelands. Even the
temperate climate of Sylvan
Mintoth chilled her tall, spare,
twenty-eight year old body.
Doral murmured something to his
queen and she flashed a glance
toward Adonia.
“Adonia, are you cold, again? The
trees still hold their leaves. It is a
warm fall day. However did you
survive last winter?” Queen
Constante laughed at her healer’s
answering shudder and grimace.
“You have been at the High
Enclave for over a year. Your
blood must have thickened a little.”
“It seems not, Ma’am.” Adonia
schooled the tartness out of her