A perpetual draft made the lantern light quiver and jump as it poured out in the wide corridors of Ildemar. In the quiet gardens, a few crickets were trying lazily to perform their nightly concert and lull the world to sleep. But despite the late hour, most of the castle’s inhabitants were awake and frantically running their errands like ants in the face of a storm.

The crackling fireplace in Noah’s study illuminated the earnest faces of the people gathered. The participants were the same as earlier that day, with one notable exception. White puffs of smoke rose from kush-turgan Akasha’s pipe, filling the air with its sweet and spicy aroma, as the old Binshi quietly stood next to Neli.

“I am leaving the Star’s heart in your care again, baba.” Noah pointed at a small chest on the table, careful not to touch it, the light of the fire gliding over his black gauntlet. “If you can, look for a way to repair it.”

“I’ll do my best, little wolf.” The shaman chewed on the pipe’s mouthpiece and her eyes darted to the side. “But not everybody seems to share your trust.”

“I don’t.” William crossed his arms on his chest. “Considering who we are hunting and adding the fact that we suspect traitors in our own midst, entrusting an outsider with Ildemar’s defenses is… questionable.”

“You forget that Kash-baba has been the Star’s guardian for the past ten years.” There was a sharpness in Noah’s tone.

“I haven’t forgotten. I still don’t see the logic of keeping the Star away from Ildemar anyway.”

“It's to keep the key and the lock it unlocks separate.” The old Binshi puffed her pipe, seemingly unphased by William’s animosity. “Your Duke is the key to controlling the castle’s hexes. The Star is the thing that tunes in the magic to his will.”

“So what?”

“So when the Star and I are together, the castle’s hexes can be finely controlled but are also most vulnerable to damage,” explained Noah coldly. “If I am killed when we are connected, which happens when the Star is close by, all of Yanosh’s wards will be nullified.”

“Even so,” William persisted, “how can you trust her so much?”

“Because she was Shana’s midwife,” growled Noah, ending the discussion.

The jerk on William’s face told him that his friend finally understood.

Even more than godparents in Limerian culture, midwives had a special position in the Binshi’s life. Childbirth was considered the most vulnerable moment in both mother and child, when evil spirits and malicious hexes could wrap their souls and harm them. Since they were the first to welcome a newborn into the world, the midwives were chosen amongst the most powerful shamans. They were seen as earthly embodiments of the Mother Above and bound by vows and magic to protect their wards. In case of the parents’ passing, the midwife was the one to guard and guide the child until maturity. A midwife could never harm her ward, lest she was prepared to be cursed by the Mother Above and her soul condemned to a fate worse than death. It was a bond deeper than any oath and as old as the world itself.

Considering their role and powers, midwives were revered and celebrated, but that was not the case for Shana’s. When Orhana was about to give birth, Yanosh had broken with tradition and requested a midwife outside of Star-path Valley, which enraged the tribe’s Elders. They claimed that Yanosh had betrayed his roots, not trusting in the abilities of his own shamans and preferring an outsider. Thus, Kash-baba’s involvement in the next Star-gazer’s birth had been kept a secret to prevent Star-path Valley from losing face among the Binshi.

In the years after, Noah had pondered upon his friend’s decision, most of all - the second part of Yanosh’s will. At his bequest, not Kash-baba but Noah was to take care of Shana if something happened to him and Orhana. Not the midwife, as custom and magical bonds dictated, but a stranger and one of the Binshi’s enemies. Yes, Kash-baba was to guide Shana in the magical ways of the Binshi when she turned ten, but Noah was to remain her guardian until adulthood.

What had Yanosh seen in the web of time? What future had he tried to prevent or steer towards? Those questions would remain unanswered. And Noah didn’t have the time to ponder over them right now.

Turning back to the confused William, he spoke in a cold, resolute tone.

“You will assist Kash-baba in any way possible. Both of you will take Castor Firmon and check around for any damages in the wards or malicious hexes. As my Lord Steward, you have full authority over the castle and Norden. But William, if this time I return to find that my wife, daughter, or head shaman have been harmed, be it by chance or by your machinations, your head will fly.”

His eyes fixated on William with the sharp coldness of steel while not even a muscle twitched on his face.

His friend put a hand over his heart and dipped his head.

“I won’t disappoint you this time, my liege.”

Noah turned his back on him and put a slightly squashed bundle of blue flowers next to the chest with the Star’s heart.

“Baba.” Even now, some coldness permeated his voice. “I hope you take good care of Shana. It would be unwise if I were to see her now, but still, I hope you’ll make sure that she gets a bundle of these flowers every day until I’m back. And... I know it might be too much to ask after everything you are doing for Gerash and Shana, but could you have a look at the Duchess too? I will reward you handsomely for your troubles.”

“No need for rewards, child.” The old shaman smiled, but there was sadness in her eyes. “If an old crone like me doesn’t help the young saplings, the Mother Above will ban me out of the Spirit Realm. Let your mind be at ease, it will be as you wish.”

Satisfied by the answer, Noah motioned for Duncan and Neli to follow him.

Servants and guards moved to the side and bowed as the Lord of Norden, clad in full armor and flanked by his closest retainers, walked through the buzzing castle. Except for his heavy steps, no other sound came from the well-oiled black plates enveloping his body. As the light of the lanterns danced on the polished metal, the carved silhouettes of lions killing their prey jumped to life. That night, in many eyes, the Duke looked like an otherworldly creature - his black hair, dark skin, and grim face, together with his eerie attire, turned him into an embodiment of the Father of Darkness.

Arriving before Lorelei’s chambers, Noah stopped and hesitated for the briefest of moments before his hand landed on the door. He didn’t have to wait long before Milly let him in, quickly stepping out of the way.

“Is Baba Marishka with the Duchess?”

“Yes, m-my lord,” replied the maid, not daring to look him in the eyes.

“Any changes?”

Milly gripped her hands and shook her head.

With large strides, Noah entered Lorelei’s bedroom. Little had changed since his last visit. Only his wife’s face, beaded with sweat, looked paler. Her chipped lips seemed rougher and the light breath escaping them sounded shallower. And could a person become even thinner in the span of just a few hours?

“Baba,” Noah sat on the edge of the bed and spoke to the Binshi, “you and your shamans can get some rest. Kush-turgan Akasha will be taking care of the Duchess until I return.”

“Do you find our care unsatisfactory, Your Highness?” Baba Mariska’s polite tone couldn’t completely hide that his words had hurt her.

“No. You did all your powers could do and I appreciate your efforts. Now, I want you to concentrate on your grand-nephew. I want Gerash’s condition monitored by the minute. You can go now.”

“As you order, Your Highness.” The old woman bowed stiffly and exited the room.

Noah waited for a moment and made a sign to Duncan and Neli.

“Leave me alone.”

His friends complied and soon he and Lorelei were the only living beings in the room. Closing his eyes, Noah opened his mind letting Nerodris’ malice fill his body. He gritted his teeth and cold sweat bathed his body, but this was the only way to reduce the armor’s magic. Lorelei’s frail body wouldn’t withstand the full power of the artifact. And yet, if she was under some sort of malicious hex, Nerodris could probably remove it. In theory. He was grabbing at straws but he was desperate.

He motioned to Lorelei, the voices in his head screaming to kill her. Crush her throat. Slit her neck. Drink her blood. He ignored them. Very carefully, he touched Lorelei’s forehead with the tip of his clawed gauntlet.

“Wake up, Duchess,” he whispered, the words struggling to form in his mouth. “Please, Lorelei, don’t… don’t leave the ones who love you behind. Oh, Norn, Father of Darkness, give her back to me. Don’t take her where I can’t reach her.”

Nothing happened.

Dry laughter escaped Noah’s lips.

It was a futile hope. Nerodris was a weapon, not a healing artifact. He removed his hand and stood motionless for a few moments, his mind suppressing the armor’s screeches to a low hum. As his jagged breaths calmed down, he stood up and left without turning back.

If he had spared a parting glance, he would have seen a wisp of silver mist slowly seeping into Lorelei’s skin.

***

The thick fragrance of sandalwood and sweat permeated the room, mixing together with the sweetness of roses and peaches into a perfume that entrapped the senses and evoked desires. The light of the several colorful lanterns hanging from the high ceiling threw magical reflections on the walls and furniture, making them look like they were covered with thousands of gems. Lustrous brocades fell from the golden-laced posts of the large bed, hiding its occupants from prying eyes.

A blissful moan escaped from between the curtains, followed by a loud gasp.

“M-my prince! Oh… oh…!”

Between the fine sheets, now crumbled and pushed to the side, two bodies intertwined. Two pairs of lips longed for each other.

Lionel traced the slender neck with his mouth, his hands tightly holding the wrists of the young woman over her head. Her voluptuous breasts pressed against his chest, hard nipples grinding against his sensitive skin. His teeth found her earlobe and bit down, as the girl winced from both pain and pleasure. Her legs wrapped around him even tighter, her whole frame shuddering with every rhythmical thrust of his hips.

Right now, Lionel had left his body to do everything on its own. His fingers knew where to touch, his lips – where to suck, his hips could adjust to every reaction of the one under him. Not that it mattered anyway, but he liked seeing his lovers melt in his hands. Be totally helpless, infatuated, burning with desire. What would they say if they knew that he felt nothing? That they were at worst something to scratch an itch, and at best – a tool in another elaborate game? But how could they? When they were with him, still wrapped in his hands, he made sure they felt like queens. Even when he walked away and guided them on their new path, they still yearned for him and were loyal to stupidity, his cute, desperate, little pawns. They believed his promises that he'll one day take them back. Make them rulers of Limeria. Idiots.

There was only one true queen in his mind and heart – unattainable, forbidden, devilish yet sweet in the few stolen moments they had together.

Closing his eyes, Lionel tried to imagine her features, the way she would bite her lip as he showered her with kisses. His hips increased their pace, thrusting deeper and more savagely, forcing the body underneath him to arch. The moans and jagged breaths of the girl became louder and faster, pulling Lionel back to reality. The magic was broken, the image of the forbidden fruit – fading into darkness.

Right now, he had work to do, it wasn’t time to fantasize. The one in his grip was an important chess piece he needed to nurture. The circumstances had separated them for more than a month, so now he had to pick up the pace. Any good farmer knew how important the right timing was, and so did Lionel. He was plowing a fertile field and hoped that his seeds would soon sprout and bear fruit. But he couldn’t leave anything to chance.

Feeling the pressure building up, Lionel gave out a low grunt and with a few more brisk moves released it in the warm expecting womb of the girl. She shuddered, her long, ecstatic cry melting in his kiss. Lionel separated from her, brushing away the sweat from his brow. In the dim, colorful light squeezing between the curtains, he could see her shape – her voluptuous body gasping for air and still shaking slightly. It would be a lie to say that he didn’t enjoy the view. This one was tastier than many he had laid with. Tonight could indeed be considered almost pleasurable.

His hand dug under the pillow, pulling out a small glass vial. The golden-colored liquid inside slightly stung his tongue as he took a sip. He needed to be careful, otherwise, that tricky little potion would make him addicted. And yet, its effects were undeniable. Almost immediately, Lionel felt a cold rush of energy spreading throughout his body. His senses became elevated, his muscles hardened beneath the skin, filled with new vigor.

He chuckled. “Angel’s tears” was such a suitable name in this situation. He took another, much larger sip, but this time didn’t swallow. Instead, he leaned over and pressed his lips to the girl’s, feeding her the potion through a passionate kiss.

“W-what?” she coughed a bit, surprised by the spicy-sweet liquid that had just entered her mouth.

Instead of answering, Lionel cupped her breasts, massaging and sucking on them. The more stimulus she got, the more effective the drug would be. His sensitive fingers soon felt the heat radiating from her skin. Her hands clawed into the sheets as her tights rubbed against each other under the rekindled lust.

“M-my…l-lord,” she panted hard, her tongue slurring the words a bit, “w-what’s going on? It… it feels so hot… so strange… My body… I need…”

“You need what, my lovely little Pricilla?” purred Lionel, his teeth squeezing one of her hard nipples.

“Oh!” A whimper escaped the girl’s lips as her hips were grinding against the sheets. “Oh… Lords! I want… want y-you, my prince! Want you! Please… oh… please…!”

“That’s a good girl,” whispered Lionel.

His lips pressed against hers as he gave her a deep kiss. His hands slowly slid down and parted her legs, feeling the hot dampness between them. With no warning, he thrust deep into her womb, his mouth – silencing her cry as he began moving inside.