Three of this generation's strongest females were just entering the last quarter of their yearlong pregnancies. The fetuses in their wombs were powerfully gifted, showing signs they possessed each of the five Fey magics. And that meant it was time for Vadim to work the miracle of soul manipulation once again.

He stopped before one of several gilt-chased doors. The guards on either side hurried to unlock it for him, and with a wave of his hand the heavy door swung inward, revealing the lush wonderland inside. In what had once been an enormous cavern carved out of the rock, live trees and grasses grew along gentle hillocks bordering a stone pathway. Sun-bright Fire burned in sconces overhead that traveled the domed ceiling daily in an imitation of the Great Sun's daily trek across the heavens. A soothing breeze rustled through the trees, and in the distance, water fell gently into a clear pond.

He had discovered long ago that serenity improved the number of live births amongst his breeding females, while privation resulted in a higher level of miscarriages and stillbirths. So he had learned to provide serenity through pleasant surroundings and a strong Mage spell that erased all memories of his prisoners' previous lives and supplanted them with the desire to enjoy their tiny slice of paradise, please the High Mage above all others, and willingly mate as directed.

Vadim followed the path to the tree-shaded pool, where he knew he would find the three women he had come for. A young black-haired child clothed in servant's rags was with them. A tray of food on the grass nearby explained her presence, but he was not pleased to find her sitting beside them, her eyes closed as one of the pregnant women sang and ran a comb through the girl's dark hair.

A leaf crackled beneath his feet. The servant girl's eyes flew open, and he saw a glint of familiar silver before she scrambled to her feet. That child again. The affront to his bloodlines. Sired by one of his own descendants—those silver eyes made the shameful truth undeniable—but born utterly without magic.

"What do you think you're up to, girl?" he snapped.

"Forgive me, Master Maur. They always seem happier when they have someone to take care of. I didn't think anyone would mind." The words were submissive, those telltale eyes downcast, but there was a tone in her voice that raised his hackles. Just her presence raised his hackles.

"You thought?" His lip curled. "When I want thoughts from you, I'll put them in your worthless skull myself." He grabbed her chin, pinching her face between his fingers. Her silver eyes flashed up—just for an instant, but that was long enough for him to see the hard glitter of hatred. His nostrils flared. He summoned power and stabbed it into her with merciless force. She gave a choked cry and dropped to her knees. "Slaves do not think. They serve. Silent and unseen. And don't dare to think those eyes of yours grant you any special worth in Boura Fell. Magic is the sole coin of this realm, and you have none. Now get out. If I find you in here again, you'll be the next sacrifice to the Guardians of the Well."

He waited until she was gone, then turned back to the women gathered by the pond. They had huddled together and were clutching one another, weeping in fear and confusion.

"Shia, Tailinn, Fania, come here." They didn't immediately obey, which only infuriated him more. With a muttered oath, he summoned a rush of Azrahn, only instead of stabbing it into the women as he had the girl, he spun a powerful compulsion weave. Their lovely faces became expressionless, their eyes going flat and vacant.

"Come here," he repeated, and all three women came to his side with silent, blank-eyed obedience.

He placed his hands on their naked, heavily pregnant bellies and sent his Mage senses inward to test the health and readiness of the fetuses. All three of the pregnancies were proceeding exactly as he'd planned, and all three of the unborn responded to his presence with little cracks of power that made their mothers flinch.

Vadim selected Shia, the Celierian-born woman with the long black hair and pale blue eyes who had been singing and brushing the girl's hair when he came in. Descended of the vel Serranis line and Vadim's own Mage blood, Shia was among this generation's most promising females, so sensitive to the dahl'reisen that Vadim had been forced to render her unconscious before releasing the stud to mate with her. Even then, Shia had nearly roused, whimpering, as the dahl'reisen pumped his seed into her prepared body.

The High Mage snapped his fingers and pointed, and four servants rushed forward with robes and gold silk slippers to clothe Shia. Vadim drew an empty vial and lancet from one pocket and made a tiny cut on her arm. Bright scarlet blood welled out. He filled the vial, capped it, then closed the small wound with a swift weave of Earth.

"Take her to the birthing room and prepare her."

Leaving his servants to their tasks, Vadim made his way back to his own chambers, to the small, heavily warded room secreted in the heart of his private suite. Though an enormous vault deep in Boura Fell contained enough gold, silver, and gems to buy a kingdom ten times over, this tiny room was where the true treasure of Eld lay.

Vadim released the wards and locks and opened the door.

Inside, rows of locked chests and rack upon rack of drawers and shelves were stuffed with every conceivable tool of power, objects Vadim had inherited from his predecessors, along with the enormous personal collection he'd gathered himself. Magical implements men and women of knowledge would conquer worlds to possess. Stones to call particular demons. Rune-etched collars and manacles to contain and control them. Tikis made by powerful Feraz Black Witches for the darkest intent of Mother Night herself. Drogan chalices that, when filled with the blood of an infant, became dark mirrors through which the High Mage and his distant emissaries could communicate without any other form of magic.