Taj Hauk stood up, and immediately the Great Hall grew silent. “It is time,” he told them all. Then he stepped from the dais and led his mother from the High Board through the crowds in the large chamber.

“Give us a blessing, faerie woman,” some dared to beg as they passed by, and when they did Lara would smile sweetly and say that they now had it.

“They love her,” Lady Persis said to her daughters.

“I don’t know why they should,” Narda muttered.

“Nor I,” Aselma agreed.

“It is because you do not know her,” Sirvat told them. “If you did you would not be so spiteful, sisters.”

“She bewitched our brother, and held him in her thrall, yet she could not save him from death,” Aselma said bitterly.

“It is not within a faerie’s powers to keep death away for long,” Sirvat responded. “She did what she could so Magnus might make his last wishes known. And she healed my husband of grievous wounds.”

“Well,” Narda said, “at least our husbands will be in charge of directing our nephew’s path. Terah will be as it has always been.”

“Aye!” Aselma echoed.

“How ignorant you both are,” Sirvat answered. “Terah will never be as it was. Not now that Hetar knows us. Magnus knew that, and was wise enough to raise a defense force to keep us strong and safe.”

“And that would have never had to happen if she hadn’t come here,” Narda replied. “She has brought the misfortune of strangers upon us.”

“If Lara hadn’t come our men would still be deaf to our voices, although I imagine there are times Tostig would be happy not to hear your discontented carping,” Sirvat said sharply. “Terah is the better for Lara. Our brother is gone, but she gave him a fine son who has taken his place as our Dominus. Now see if you can both cease your bitterness long enough to honor our brother as he leaves us.”