Crown of Destiny

From New York Times bestselling author and master of romance Bertrice Small comes the stunning conclusion to the World of Hetar series…

A hundred years have passed since the Faerie woman Lara last saved Hetar. Her youth and beauty remain as always. The waning years, however, have taken many of her friends and kin. And those who remember her heroism in times of peril are few.

All the while Lara’s son, the charming but nefarious Twilight Lord Kolgrim, waits patiently for his moment. Kolgrim won’t repeat his father’s mistakes by waging war. His way is more subtle but just as sinister—not even Lara’s formidable powers will be able to stop him. Though all seems lost, Lara still clings to the hope that she can fulfill the prophecy to unite the people of Hetar.

As darkness once again falls over her land, Lara finds that, more than ever, she needs the wisdom, love and support of the handsome Shadow Prince, Kaliq. In their greatest trial yet, Lara and Kaliq will finally meet her long-foretold destiny…together.

Praise for The World of Hetar series and New York Times bestselling author

“Readers who enjoyed the first in [this] new series will devour Lara’s latest adventure.”

—Booklist on A Distant Tomorrow

“The third in the World of Hetar series has plenty of political intrigue, some fantastical characters, and lots of Small’s unique brand of hot, boldly descriptive…romance.”

—Booklist on The Twilight Lord

“Small’s newest novel is a sexily fantastical romp.”

—Publishers Weekly on The Sorceress of Belmair

“Rich in colorful characters, brimming over with Small’s unique sense of erotic passion and a plot filled with mystery, the fourth title in the series is another masterpiece.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Sorceress of Belmair, Top Pick

“Small is not only a queen of erotic/adventure historicals, with the fifth book in the World of Hetar series, she is a grand mistress of erotic fantasy.… With this newest story, the author demonstrates that we can ‘have it all.’”

—RT Book Reviews on The Shadow Queen, Top Pick

“The final volume in the World of Hetar delivers a fantasy lover’s delight.”

—RT Book Reviews on Crown of Destiny

Crown of Destiny

Bertrice Small

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The World of Hetar now is done.

My faerie tale its course hath run.

Hetar at last will meet its fate.

The magic world hath closed the gate.

But Lara and Kaliq prevail.

For them the light will never fail.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

PROLOGUE

HE HAD KILLED her with his bare hands. Actually he had used only one hand. His long elegant fingers closing about her slim white throat, squeezing, squeezing, until the terror in her dark eyes had faded away to nothingness. She had failed him. He had forgiven her the first time. And the second. But when a third mating season frenzy had come upon him, and she failed yet again, there had been no other choice open to him. Her delicious darkness had attracted him, but she was nothing more than a fertile field in which to plant the seed that would become his son. And after the child was born he had intended killing her anyway.

Now at least he would not have to listen to her foolish ambitions. Or her harping at him to leave the Dark Lands and go out to conquer Hetar. She had never understood that for his conquest to succeed they must be patient, and rebuild his armies. They had time, and this time the darkness would overcome the light. But Ciarda had never accepted the fact that women were for nothing more than pleasures and babies. She wanted to be part of his eventual conquest, foolish creature! Her inability, however, to give him his heir had been her downfall. He had thought she was the one. She had believed she was.

And once her body had gone limp in his grasp he had personally carried the lifeless form from her bedchamber halfway across the bridge leading to his House of Women. Then with a final look at his half sister’s remains he dropped them over the balustrade of the span into the bottomless ravine. Returning to his Throne Room, Kolgrim, the Twilight Lord, called Alfrigg, his chancellor, to him.

“Ciarda is no more,” he announced to the dwarf when Alfrigg stood before him.

“She was not the one,” Alfrigg said quietly. “Will you not now look in the Book of Rule to see what it says to you.”

Kolgrim nodded. “Open it,” he said.

And going to the stand that held the Book of Rule, the chancellor opened it reverently. Then he stepped back to allow his young master to see what was written.

Once he had quickly scanned them, Kolgrim beckoned Alfrigg over to see the words. Very few could read the ancient tongue so beautifully inscribed upon the pages. Twilight Lords read them instinctively. Alfrigg had been taught the language by the former Twilight Lord, Kolgrim’s father, because he had earned his master’s trust when no one else had.

The Book of Rule was magical. It was constantly adding clean pages upon which the words were written by an unseen hand. The words recorded the reigns of the Twilight Lords past and present. It offered advice and suggestions to its master. Today it said,

She who was good for naught but pleasures has at long last been disposed of as was right and proper. Now the wait begins for She who will produce the next Twilight Lord. When it is time, the book will advise you on which daughter from the Hetarian House of Ahasferus is to be chosen. Descended from Ulla, her dark womb will bloom for the descendant of Joruun, and your line will be never ending. Now cultivate patience, Kolgrim, son of Kol and Lara. Use this time well so you may be ready.

Alfrigg looked to his master, nodding. “This is good,” he said. “Very good.”

“Have I spawned any daughters with my women?” Kolgrim asked the dwarf.

“Several,” his chancellor replied.

“Kill them, and kill the mothers, too. I want no weeping women seeking revenge or spitting curses at me. And if any are with child, kill them, too. I will use my magic to close the wombs of those remaining, and any new women I take. I will not have my son threatened by a female sibling as my brother and I were threatened. I shall have but one child, a son, by she who is fated to be my mate.”

“Excellent, my lord, excellent,” Alfrigg approved. “Your father would be so very proud of you.”

“But not my mother.” Kolgrim chuckled. “That beautiful, impossible creature of blinding light is the only one who can defeat me.”

“She will not this time,” Alfrigg said with surety.

“How can you be so certain?” Kolgrim demanded to know.

The dwarf shook his grizzled head. “Something deep down within me tells me so, my lord. It is not logical, and I cannot explain it. But you will win this time. I know it! Besides, you are your father’s son. There is nothing of Lara in you.”

Kolgrim smiled a rare soft smile. “I have her golden hair,” he said. “I might have magicked it to be as dark as my father and brother. However it amuses me to keep it light. It reminds me of Lara.”

“Why would you want to be reminded of your mother?” Alfrigg asked.

“Is it not wise, Alfrigg, to know your enemy before you attack that enemy?”

The dwarf shook his head in wonder. “There is no sentiment in you, my lord. You are wise beyond your years. Thank Krell your father was imprisoned, for if he had not been I do believe that you and he would have fought over the Dark Lands. That is where the forces of the light have erred in their judgment. They believed by imprisoning your father they stopped what is inevitable. They believed that you and your brother would fight one another for the crown of these lands thus weakening us further for centuries to come. But I hid you both in different places to keep you safe. You knew nothing of your heritage, my lord, until the Darkling Ciarda, your half sister, told you. I never meant for you and your sibling to know one another at all. Those who fostered you both did not know your lineage. I intended to choose one of you to reign when you reached maturity.”

“But Ciarda spoiled all your plans with her ambition,” Kolgrim said.

Alfrigg nodded. “Aye, she did, and the chaos she caused might have kept the Dark Lands leaderless for years, foolish creature she was.”

“Who would you have chosen, Chancellor?” the young Twilight Lord asked candidly. His dark eyes danced with wickedness.

“My lord! What a question.” Alfrigg chuckled. “Once I came to know you both, there was only one choice possible. You, Kolgrim, son of Kol! Your twin brother was a crude, ignorant bully. Power, wine, pleasures, were all he sought, or wanted. That is why the Darkling Ciarda sought to use him against you, against me. Now she is dead. Your brother is imprisoned with your father, and you, my lord, will triumph eventually.”

“You are certain of this?” Kolgrim demanded. “For if you are wrong, Alfrigg, I will slay you without a moment’s hesitation before I meet my own fate.”

“My instinct for this is what keeps me alive, my lord,” the dwarf said.

“I am not a patient creature,” Kolgrim said.

“Then you will have to cultivate patience, my lord. Your reward will be worth it. I swear it!” Alfrigg insisted to his master. “You are he who is meant to triumph!”

CHAPTER ONE

OVER A HUNDRED years had passed since Lara and Kaliq had triumphed over the dark forces that shared their world. She had reluctantly accepted the cruel fate visited upon magic folk who must watch the mortals they love grow old and die. Dillon, her eldest son, remained young and vital on Belmair, where he ruled as king. His wife, Cinnia, remained by his side, still youthful, too. They had produced a single son, and six daughters, two of whom had shown a talent for their parents’ magical abilities.

Anoush, Lara’s second born, Vartan’s daughter, had lived to be ninety. She had never married, to Lara’s sorrow, nor even taken any lovers. Among the Fiacre clan family she had been respected for her healing abilities, but feared because of her talent for prophecy. She had come to suppress that gift for, gentle creature that she was, Anoush did not like distressing others. And as the years had passed, and those who knew her had died that particular talent had been forgotten and she was just considered a healer. She was content to be thought of in that way. Eventually none but a few elderly among the clan families recalled that she was the daughter of Vartan the Great, who had married a faerie woman.

Vartan’s exploits were believed nothing more than legend now. In the New Outlands of Terah the clan families had no need to fear for their survival. Separated by a range of high mountains from Terah proper they paid their yearly tribute to the Dominus while growing content with their lives as it was. There were no more great leaders among them. They came to believe their lives had always been as they were now and no longer believed that men like Vartan or the beautiful faerie woman he had wed even existed. They considered the tale of Lara’s rescue of the clan families from Hetar’s Outlands just a story. Nothing more.

The Devyn sang their songs of the past at the Gathering each Autumn as they had always done. But now the clan families gathered there smiled and nodded, considering most of what they heard fiction, or stories that, while they might have some truth in them, were not quite factual. They could not believe that their people had ever lived lives of such adventure, or known such magic. The names Rendor, Roan and Liam were no more than names to them. They thought of themselves as ordinary agrarian folk. Of late, however, the Taubyl Traders had begun coming over the waters of the Obscura from Hetar to offer the clan families fine goods and slaves for sale. They saw the New Outlands as a fresh new market for their wares, but they also brought with them the foibles of Hetar.

Over the previous twenty years a good-size town had sprung up before the castle of the Dominus. And at the head of each of the seven fiords a smaller town was now in existence. The trading ships from Hetar were sailing directly across the sea of Sagitta into those towns. They came for the fine fabrics, jewelry and crafts that the Terahn artisans created. They brought with them Hetarian vices. At first permission was requested for a single pleasure house in each of the small towns to service Hetarian seamen. But the curious Terahn males allowed to patronize those pleasure houses when there were no Hetarian ships in their own port decided they should have their own pleasure houses, too.

The then Dominus Amhar had requested seven pleasure mistresses from Hetar to come to Terah. They would create a single pleasure house for each of the fiord towns, manage them for three years, choose their own replacement from among their women and then return to Hetar. In return for this favor Amhar sent his youngest daughter, Mahault, named after his sister, as bride to Hetar’s Lord High Ruler Palben. Hetar and Terah were bound closer than they had previously been. Lara sighed. How could this be when she had struggled so hard to keep Terah safe from the decadent civilization of Hetar?

Zagiri, her third child, had survived her husband, Lord High Ruler Jonah, although Jonah had managed to live into his eighties. Frail of body but astute of mind, he had ruled with an iron hand, bringing Hetar back to its former prosperity. And Zagiri had never stopped loving him or supporting him in all he did. Though almost thirty years younger than Jonah, Zagiri had not lived long after her husband had died. It had always surprised Lara that her beautiful golden child, Magnus Hauk’s daughter, had followed Jonah so quickly, so easily. But then Zagiri had never had an ounce of magic in her.

As for Marzina, Lara’s youngest child, she had grown into an incredibly beautiful girl. And having spent two years with the Daughters of the Great Creator to learn self-discipline, Marzina had gone to her grandmother, Ilona, queen of the Forest Faeries, again, to learn how to properly use her magic. Then Kaliq had spent two years tutoring her. She was incredibly talented, being the child of two magical creatures, although Marzina had always believed that Magnus Hauk, her mother’s second husband, was her father. And thanks to Ilona, no one had ever questioned that Taj’s twin sister was so unlike him, being dark-haired while Taj was blond.

Marzina now spent a good deal of time in the forests of Hetar or the mountains of Terah for she and her mother did not always get along. Lara saw in her youngest child what others did not. She saw a ribbon of darkness that frightened her. The black blood of Kol, the former Twilight Lord who had sired her, could not be denied. It ran hot in Marzina’s veins along with a streak of faerie cruelty she had inherited from her grandmother. When Marzina had attained sixteen mortal years she had even attempted to seduce Kaliq. He had put her off, but things were never again the same between mother and daughter. Marzina quickly knew she had overstepped herself, and she blamed Kaliq. But Lara knew her lover and life mate far better than Marzina did, and she was not certain she could ever forgive her daughter’s lapse, although Kaliq did.

Lara sighed again. Her world was on the edge of something, but she did not know what, nor could she gain any preglimpse of it yet. Rising from the chair where she had been seated, Lara walked out into her gardens. She now lived in the southwest tower of the castle. Praise the Great Creator that it faced the fjord, and she didn’t have to gaze down upon Dominum as her grandson had dictated the town be called. It was modeled on The City. But of course few Terahns had ever seen The City. The royal Terahn architect had relied on Ambassador Amren’s description of Hetar’s capitol. Lara had visited it once, but it was nothing like The City as she remembered it. Dominum was a monument to excess with large building fashioned from marble quarried in the Emerald Mountains.

Both the Ore and Jewel gnomes had objected to this incursion onto their lands. But they were now fewer in number than ever before and could only protest vocally. Lara had spoken to her grandson, the Dominus Amhar, reminding him that the precious metals and jewels the gnomes mined were the raw materials Terah’s artisans needed for their jewelry and metalwork. If the gnomes refused to go into their mines, Terah would have no work for export to Hetar. She convinced the Artisans and Metalworkers Guilds to support her endeavor. The Dominus Amhar was not pleased to be chastised by the beautiful woman who was his grandmother. But the guild chiefs were another matter entirely. Amhar sent to the gnomes apologizing for intruding upon their lands without first asking, and requesting their permission to quarry for another two months. With his messenger went a dozen barrels of fine wine and six casks of oysters packed in ice. The gnomes grudgingly agreed. The damage was already done to a portion of their mountains.

And so Dominum was raised up with three broad avenues running north to south and three broad avenues that crossed them running east to west. The buildings, however, were mostly empty for the only government was the Dominus and he ruled from his castle. The council formed by Magnus Hauk had been dissolved decades ago by Dominus Taj. How Lara had argued with her son over that, but as Taj had pointed out, there was no need for a council. It had been an experiment and nothing more.

Terahns were used to one form of rule. They wanted no changes made. Their Dominus was good enough for them. It was his duty to make the decisions, not the people. Lara realized that Taj’s grandmother, and his three uncles whom she had appointed to be his council had done their job well while she had been off saving their worlds. Her son had been turned into a proper Terahn Dominus from the old school, and she hadn’t seen it until it was far too late. And her grandson and great-grandson had followed Taj in maintaining the ancient traditions.

When her mother-in-law had lain dying, she had advised Taj on the sort of wife he should take. A well-brought-up Terahn girl who knew her place, which was in the background, and her duty, which was to give Taj children. And Taj, despite Lara’s best efforts, had followed the advice given by Lady Persis. Lara could only silently despair. She considered if Magnus Hauk had listened to his mother Terah would never have been free of the curse of Usi, and it would have probably been conquered by Hetar or the Twilight Lord. But from the moment Magnus had died the Terahns had subtly worked their influence on Lara’s son. Perhaps had she been with him more it would not have happened, but there were so many problems that needed to be solved in those days. And it was the magic inhabitants of the world of Hetar who fought to save it.

So Taj had grown up, and married a suitable Terahn wife. Vineeta was pretty enough to keep her son interested long enough to sire the required children. Amhar had been born ten months after the marriage. He was followed by his two sisters, Elvyne and Casperia. Amren, the younger son, had been the fourth, born eight years later, and was followed the next year by Taj’s youngest daughter, Mauhault.

But while offering her mother-in-law outward respect, the young Domina Vineeta found it disquieting that her husband’s mother looked as though she could be one of her own companions. The daughter of a wealthy widower, she had been chosen by Taj’s aunts Anselma and Narda to be Taj’s wife. Motherless, she looked to them for advice. As neither of Magnus Hauk’s two older sisters had liked Lara, their opinions drove Vineeta’s attitude toward her mother-in-law. Taj’s youngest aunt, the Lady Sirvat, Lara’s best friend, had attempted to heal the growing breach, but the damage was done.

Anselma and Narda whispered a stream of ignorance and prejudice into Vineeta’s small ear. Vineeta had believed it all. She kept her children from their grandmother, clutching them to her dramatically when Lara entered the nursery. The children sensed that something was wrong, and grew to fear the beautiful golden-haired woman who came to see them. Eventually they became so hysterical at the mere sight of Lara that after complaining to her son, Lara had stayed away.

“Children are like that, Mother,” the Dominus Taj told her. “They have their shy moments even with their parents.”

“I have birthed enough children to know what they are like,” Lara had replied sharply. “Those two harpies who are your father’s older sisters have taught Vineeta to fear me, and she in turn teaches my grandchildren. Amhar actually hissed at me and made a sign with his hands, which I imagine he has been told is something to ward off evil. I’m afraid I laughed at him, which sent him into a flood of tears and shrieking as he ran from me.”

“It is a phase,” Taj defended his oldest son.

“It is prejudice,” Lara said quietly. “You have no magic in you, Taj, but you are still the son of a faerie woman. Be glad you are an ordinary mortal for if you were not you would face what I now face. It was never so in your father’s time. Or perhaps it was, and your father protected me for he loved me. I am your mother, my lord Dominus, and that alone should command respect. But if your wife and aunts are allowed to treat me so shabbily, then your children will, too. Once you stood by my side against those who would mistreat me. You no longer do. It saddens me, but I will always love you even if I no longer like you,” Lara told her son, and by the shocked look upon his face she knew she had made her point.

But she could not, would not stand between Taj and Vineeta. She would not demand that he make a choice between his mother and his wife. That was a mortal way; it was not the faerie way. And so her grandchildren had become virtual strangers to Lara. But when Taj’s younger son was to be sent to Hetar as Terah’s ambassador, he came to Lara for more knowledge than anyone else could give him.

“Tell me about Hetar,” he said.

“Why do you need to know?” Lara asked him.

“I am to represent Terah,” Amren said proudly. “You are Hetarian. You know what I need to know.”

“I am faerie,” Lara told him. “I was born in the forests of Hetar, daughter of Ilona, who is Queen of the Forest Faeries, and a Hetarian named John Swiftsword. Swiftsword was your great-grandfather. His memory is much respected in Hetar, and especially among the Crusader Knights.”

“What are they?” Amren inquired.

Lara explained.

“So in Hetar there is a distinct social strata, as there is here in Terah,” he said.