CHAPTER 1

"God's Blood, Sarashi—move!"

Shayne's voice was saturated with the frustration he felt nearly everyday as he tried doggedly but usually in vain to instruct and guide hisyounger brother in the athletic pursuits that he found so enticing and easy.Both teenagers were elegantly designed by nature, with tall, lithe, well-muscledbodies and nearly identical faces etched from the genes of theirfather and mother. They, and their little brother, Sabriel, had a version oftheir father's dark eyes and shiny, raven-black hair, strong, square jaw, andthe high, well-defined cheekbones that all Chay males seemed to threaddown through the generations. Their younger twin sisters, Waneta andWakanda, favored their mother, Rue Sabra, with their vivid red-brownhair and green eyes, setting off their gentler, far less aggressive personalityand manners. Her slightly cleft chin echoed in her sons' faces, but that wasessentially the extent of her contribution to the Chay male heirs.

The sixteen-year-old Heir-Prince to the Crown of Chay was by farthe more outgoing and demanding of the two oldest brothers, and rarelyacted any other way. On occasion he allowed his thirteen-year-old brotherto see a vulnerable, sensitive side, but those happenstances occurred fewand far between. Anyone who observed the siblings would doubt thatthe older had a heart or conscience, let alone a soul whose depths wereunfathomable even to him. The boys' father had pounded his implacablephilosophies into them from the first weeks of their lives, and brookedno dissension as to his lofty expectations and demands. Shayne was fastfollowing suit and rarely gave leeway to anyone, even the younger brotherhe secretly adored. It wouldn't do to allow Sarashi to know just how muchhis frequent, devoted companion and best friend meant to Shayne; thatwould provide the younger Chay with an edge over his older sibling. AsHeir-Prince to the most powerful Kindred on Osiron, Shayne couldn'tpermit that. Wouldn't permit that.

Shayne frowned and glared menacingly at Sarashi, who was strugglingto pull himself up the huge, slick wall with a well-worn, fraying ropethat chafed his raw hands. Sarashi cursed his clumsiness, his overbearingbrother, their judgmental father, and the damn rope as he methodicallyplaced hand over hand and ascended the wall slowly but surely as abooted foot occasionally slipped against the smooth rock surface. Beads ofperspiration popped out all over his intense, handsome face as he clenchedhis teeth and proceeded upward.

"Grasp the rope tighter! Less distance between your hands, Sasha!"Shayne barked, gesturing wildly.

"Shut up!" Sarashi retorted as he ignored the familiar commands andcontinued his sweaty efforts.

"You need to keep your feet flush against the rock. That's why you'reslipping," Shayne responded, secretly enjoying the torment as well asinstruction that he was inflicting on his sibling. And, of course, he alsomade allowances for his brother that he wouldn't for any other person, ifonly because Sarashi was one of the few people--adult or child--whohad the audacity and courage to defy him or respond verbally with anattitude and verbiage much less deferential than expected for the youngCrown-Prince-in-waiting.

"Shut up!" Sarashi echoed as he cursed audibly under his breath,tightened his grip, expelled a final raspy wheeze, and made the top of thefifty-meter wall that had defeated him on every other occasion. He gave awild whoop of exhilaration and success as he gingerly positioned himselfwith one long leg on either side of the half-meter thick wall that had up tothis moment been an unbreachable enemy. He had an exceptional view ofthe Chay compound from his height, and enjoyed the soft, salty breeze thatwashed across his face as a dozen huge, white clouds ambled silently acrossthe sapphire-blue sky. He felt at peace, but knew it wouldn't last; it neverdid when he was with his impossible older brother. Still, he wouldn't haveit any other way. He glanced down at Shayne, who was standing far belowglaring up at him impatiently, hands on hips, a temperamental cast to hisfinely chiseled lips and a dangerous squint to his warm brown eyes.

"All right," Shayne sighed loudly as he flexed his shoulders and drewhimself up to his full two-meter height. His face relaxed just a bit. "Youtook long enough, but you finally made it. Now come down so we canwash and change before we eat."

"I'm not hungry," Sarashi lied languidly, making no attempt to comply.He was calm and enjoying his temporary respite from his brother and theirfamily. He leaned back casually and rested his palms against the narrowrock top. His lively, perceptive eyes took in every aspect of his luxuriousbut restricted world: the immense quadra-tier Chay home sprawled outacross the bluff overlooking the Meditteran Sea; the relatives and servantsscattered about the outside of the compound as they prepared for the feastthat would follow his manhood ceremony that very night; the small fleetof commercial and personal crafts that docked a half kilometer away,and were still disgorging busy people attending to every demand madeby Chay Warrick; and the marvelously crafted, extensive, manicuredgrounds replete with trees and flowers of every Osiran species, and a fewrare Ptolemii ones. The wall on which he sat was at the center of a huge,circular athletic training ground along with archery, gymnastics and trackcourses; the Olympian swimming pool was indoors at the west end of themain house, sheltered by a shimmering transparent lucitium dome thatlet in both the bright sun and glistening moonlight and stars. His worldwas undeniably beautiful and desirable; he wondered why that knowledgedidn't soothe him more. He wondered why he was so different from hisbrother.

His brother's terse voice broke Sarashi's rambling thoughts. "Thatdoesn't matter. Father has scheduled the ceremony and meal for specifictimes, and whether you want to or not, you will eat. And eat a full plateful,boy, or there'll be hell to pay." The threat came through Shayne's voice loudand clear; their father had made plans, and no one would be permitted toalter those plans, particularly the boy who was their immediate object.

"Now climb down here immediately," Shayne barked coldly, thatfamiliar and dreaded iciness creeping into his deep voice for the tenth timethat day alone. Sarashi's own voice was changing, and he was painfully shyand aware of the occasional tonal crack that made him unsure of himself,and too self-conscious. He reluctantly gave a short nod of the head, swunga leg over the top of the climbing wall, and awkwardly slipped a half-meterinto a back-down position as he instinctively wrapped the rope aroundhis strong hands. He descended fairly easily, although he felt typicallyawkward under the relentless scrutiny of his silent brother. He released therope and dropped down the last meter, nearly losing his balance. Shaynesaid nothing, to his credit and Sarashi's embarrassment.

Shayne grinned unexpectedly, and clapped his brother on the shoulder.He nodded his head in approval as he glanced up at the imposing obstaclethe younger Chay had just overcome. "You did very well, little brother,"Shayne said seriously. "I couldn't scale that beast the first time either," headded graciously. He had actually taken two times to conquer the wallthey had breezily named Diablo; their father had scaled the wall his firsttime out at the age of ten.

"Try five times," Sarashi confessed mournfully as he enjoyed the closerapport they rarely failed to share. "Father wasn't pleased when I failedthe last time."

"You didn't fail," Shayne interjected quietly. "You just didn't succeed.Failure lies in not attempting to try, and you've never been guilty ofthat."

"Tell Father," Sarashi replied irritably as he shrugged off his brother'shand and began walking towards their house. Shayne fell into step withhim and the brothers were silent until only a few meters away from thewide sliding doors of the rear enclosure that opened to a wide expanse oflawn that disappeared over the bluff. Sarashi stopped, closed his eyes, anddrank in the wonderful smell of the sea breezes that caressed his smoothcheeks. He loved the sea, and the mountains. He never felt more alive orgraceful than when he was treading water in the relentless, crashing saltwaves or the glacial lake at the family lodges. His father had promisedto take him and his brother there after the ceremonial gatherings ended,and the father and sons could have some quiet, quality time together.Too rare, these days: Chay Warrick was always so busy since returningfrom a mandated conclave on Ptolem and setting up a series of regionalparliaments. The ubiquitous Heir-Prince was immersed in his studiesand the new exploration of carnal pursuits. Shayne interrupted Sarashi'speaceful thoughts with an oddly gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Father knows how hard you try," Shayne said seriously. "He onlywants what's best for you."

"A full psychological meltdown?" Sarashi replied archly, as one eyebrowrose to its full height.

Shayne grinned artlessly. "Hardly. It wouldn't do to have the secondson of the household babbling in gibberish that sounds like Ptolemii whilebound in tritium restraints at the Psyplex."

"That actually sounds good right about now," the younger brothermuttered as a slight blush crept across his close-set ears and under theshort, perfect hairline.

"It won't be that bad," Shayne replied. "A few ancient intonations,some Holy Oil, a little bloodletting--"

"Bloodletting?" Sarashi gasped as he stared into his older brother'samused face.

"Didn't Father mention that part?" Shayne asked mildly. "Nothingto worry about--the stilon is sharp and the patri usually knows what'she doing."

"Stilon? Sharp?" Sarashi's face had completely drained of color, andShayne found himself caught between a catty amusement and a mildannoyance that his sibling wasn't of a heartier disposition in the thingsthat mattered. He decided to string his brother's taut composure out justa bit more, and see if the fragile tendril would snap.

"Indeed," he said, nodding seriously as he fought back the urge tolaugh. "A little slash here, a tiny cut there, and it's done. It's hardly likelythat you'll be unable to sire children, but of course, there's always thatpotential."

"Where, here and there?" Sarashi stuttered as he managed to find hisvoice, but it cracked and he thought about throwing himself off the bluff.He felt his face grow warm and red as his brother pointedly let his gazerun down the length of Sarashi's long, lean body to rest on a place justbelow his midsection. At that moment, Sarashi knew Shayne was simplytormenting him, and there was no `bloodletting.' He groaned and whirledaround, and wordlessly covered the last few meters to the back of the houseas his brother's laughter echoed in the vast expanse of the Chay enclaveand burned his ears like the very fires of Hades.

CHAPTER 2

Chay Warrick frowned deeply in concentration as he watched his teenagesons amble back to the compound. He had observed his younger son'sefforts to breach the wall and actually succeed. He was pleased at Sarashi'ssuccess, but concerned that it had taken so many efforts. He himself hadmade the climb up and over the first time out, and he expected nothingless from his sons. At least Shayne had only taken two tries to conquer thedaunting physical challenge. Not bad, but Sarashi was another matter. Theboy was clearly not as proficient in any pursuit as was his older sibling. Hedidn't move through his young life with the same ease as his brother, andlikely never would. He was painfully awkward and unsure of himself, andneeded to be brought up to scratch as soon as possible. The second son wasalways constrained in their ancestral line, and Sarashi's fate had been setbefore he was even born. He had obligations, however, to his immediatefamily and his lineage, and had no right to expect to circumvent thoseresponsibilities in any way.

Not that Chay Warrick didn't appreciate his younger sons--Sabriel,anyway--but Shayne was definitely his heart, soul and hope, and ofnecessity and desire he had always expended much more care and time onhis oldest. Sarashi understood; he had made the matter clear to the boyon his fifth birthanniv in a heartfelt albeit somewhat one-sided discussion.The boy had nothing to complain about, however, since his older brotherwas a devoted if demanding companion and guide through their carefullycrafted life and set of expectations. Sarashi would be just fine, and Shaynewould establish and seed a magnificent line down through their impressivedynasty. Chay Warrick had planned and bred well, and his offspringwould show the true fruits of his labor. Five-year-old Sabriel was alreadyshowing a remarkable aptitude for logic and mathematics, and his fatherwas studiously devising a well-crafted future for the youngest Chay son inthe highest scientific sectors.

A small hand tugged relentlessly on his sleeve and he scowled downmenacingly at his small daughter, who grinned impishly at her imposingbut adoring father. Wakanda was alone, a rare occurrence for the twin. Hewondered where Waneta was as he suddenly picked up the little girl andhugged her tightly. His rough black beard tickled her soft cheeks and thetwo-year-old giggled wildly as her father whirled her around and enjoyeda rare unguarded moment with his adorable child. He chucked her underthe chin, and brushed back a lock of long, silky auburn hair, her mother'shair. He carried her out of the hearthchamber to find his wife and checkon the preparations for the evening's elaborate feast and celebration ofhis son's manhood ceremony. If all was going well and not in need of hisattention, he'd have the time and opportunity to make a quick visit tocentral Etrusca and enjoy the unique pleasures of his longtime concubine,Cassandra, and spend some time with their young son Cayden. Yes, that'swhat he'd do.

He'd have to ensure a bit more discretion than usual since his wife,although usually tolerant of his fleeting infidelities, could barely repressher frustration and rage at his unfathomable passion for the common, yetstunning daughter of gem merchants. She could understand his attractionto women of impressive lineage and accomplishment, but not to someoneso terribly beneath him--in more ways than one. And Chay Warrickcouldn't explain his attachment to himself, let alone to his wife of nearlytwenty years. He'd stopped trying years ago, after his bastard son had beenborn. The boy barely resembled his mother in his unremarkable features,but thankfully did so in his kind, cheerful nature. Cayden would never riseto the intellectual or social heights that his legitimate brothers would, buthe had a keen sense of steadfast self and honor that radiated through evenat the tender age of three. Someday, Warrick hoped to be able to bring hisspecial son enough into the Chay fold to interact and enjoy his brothersand sisters. Someday. If he could persuade his wife that the boy was nothreat to their sons. Except, of course, in his heart.

Sarashi caught a glimpse of his father leaving their spacioushearthchamber, with one of his little sisters slung over their sire's broadshoulder. Her high-pitched giggles receded as he threw himself down intohis father's favorite chair, and eyed his older sibling skeptically. Shaynesashayed over to the hidden spirits' store, pressed a none-too-well-hiddenindent, and popped open the middle layer that held their father's preciousstore of Corson annise. He flashed a conspiratorial grin at Sarashi as hedefiantly overrode the individual flask lock and smoothly removed theshimmering, pyramid-shaped lucitium flask and its golden liquid andwiggled it at his brother. He raised his eyebrows in a distinct challenge.Sarashi hesitated, then shook his head. He was tempted, but not suicidal.

"Coward," Shayne threw out as he reached for a tall, tapered goblet,pulled out the platinium cork, and carefully poured in a significantlyimpressive draught of the forbidden drink. He closed his eyes and liftedthe goblet to his nose, and breathed in the sweet, tangy, rich scent of thesecret cluster of herbal and floral ingredients that comprised the rare andimpressively expensive beverage. His father had allowed him a half gobleton his sixteenth birthanniv, right after he had presented his firstborn withthe ritual Chay signet ring bearing the carefully etched sphinx. AlthoughShayne reveled in the strength and honor of the ring, and the fact that ithad been presented before the traditional ceremony, once he had tasted thestrong spirits he found himself craving that pleasure even more than he'dever thought possible. He'd managed to sneak a few sips here and therewhen Chay Warrick wasn't looking, but he had never had the temerity toappropriate a full flask in broad daylight as he was now doing.