Love is in the air. But so is magic. And it's not the sort of magic that our intrepid adventurers really want to deal with at all!

CHAPTER ONE - THE COVEN

        "Father?"

        Crown Prince Treyas Merripen looked up from his paperwork with a smile. He beckoned the young elf into the room as he rose from behind his desk.

        "I'm not interrupting anything am I?" the brown-skinned young man asked.

        "Pepin, you are never an interruption," Treyas replied and embraced him warmly. "In fact, I'm glad you're here. I was finalizing our travel plans to Dalziel and I realized I never got your supply request. If you want to –"

        "Papay," Pepin interrupted softly, "I'm not going."

        Treyas looked at him in surprise and puzzlement. "What do you mean? Is something wrong? Is someone ill?"

        "No, no. Everyone is fine," Pepin assured him.

        "Then..." Treyas shrugged.

        "It's not my place to go, Papay," Pepin said.

        "Of course it is. You're in line to the throne."

        "That's just the point," Pepin said with a sigh of exasperation. "I'm not. Not really."

        Treyas' face grew firm. "Pepin, you're my son."

        "Yes, by choice not by chance." Pepin took hold of his arm, his dark eyes searching Treyas' face. "You've been my father since I was seven years old. There's not a day that goes by that I don't thank you with all of my heart for adopting me. But you adopted me, Papay, not the elfin empire. I should not be in line to the throne. That right belongs to Vantann. He is your first-born son, not me."

        Treyas stared at him in shock, then annoyance settled in his mis-matched blue and green eyes. "Who's been talking to you?"

        "No one." Pepin released Treyas' arm and walked over to look out the tall, mullioned window. He could feel Treyas' gaze burning into his back.

        "Then where did you come up with this idea?" Treyas asked. "Aelfdene and the elves accepted you as my son fifteen years ago, Pepin. They expect you to follow me. I expect you to follow me. What's happened that's changed that?"

        Pepin hesitated, toying idly with the drapery pull. "Father, I have a legacy," he finally said. "A role to fill. But it's not in Aelfdene. You know that."

        "I know that you're an honorary Prince of Mere Odain," Treyas said tightly, "and that you still oversee the DragonRiders there, but I was under the assumption that Faolan had filled the role you speak of."

        Pepin closed his eyes, the chill in his father's voice eating at his heart. He took a deep breath, opened his eyes and turned to face Treyas. "I've taken the position back, Father," he said quietly. "I am now officially the DragonMaster of Mere Odain."

        Treyas stared at him, stunned. "When?"

        "Six months ago," Pepin replied. "On my twenty-third birthday."

        "Six...why didn't you tell me?" Treyas exploded. "Was it supposed to be some sort of secret? Was I supposed to find out the day you left home? Gods, Pepin! I'm your father! Does being twenty-three relieve you of common courtesy? I should have been told, Pepin! No! Dammit! I should have been asked!" He jerked toward the door as a soft knock sounded. "What is it?" he snapped.

        Druce Sinclair, Treyas' squire and SoulMate, stepped into the room, his dark eyes darting from Treyas to Pepin and back. "You wanted to know when Elek had arrived," he said. "He's downstairs with the children."

        "Where, Druce?" Treyas demanded hotly. "Downstairs is a bit vague."

        "In the kitchen," Druce answered slowly, then added, "He's sitting in the chair closest to the fireplace and has had three cookies and a half a glass of milk."

        Treyas glared at him. "Don't patronize me," he seethed, then glanced at Pepin. "We're not through with this discussion, Pepin. Until we are, I forbid you to return to Mere Odain!" He strode from the room, angrily pushing past Druce.

        Druce watched him storm down the circular stairway, then turned to Pepin. "What was that all about?"

        Pepin shook his head and flung himself into a chair. "Nothing!"

        "That was nothing? Come on, Pepin, what's going on? You and Treyas never fight."

        Pepin rubbed wearily at his face, then looked up at Druce. "I've officially assumed my title as DragonMaster."

        Druce's eyes went wide. "I see. When did this happen?"

        "Six months ago. I know I should have told him then. I just couldn't. Half the house was sick with poujo, and Mamay and Papay –"

        "You haven't told your mother?" Druce interrupted, aghast.

        "Not yet," Pepin mumbled, picking at the green brocade on the chair arm.

        "Coals, Pepin, and you think Treyas took it hard."

        Pepin slouched further into the overstuffed chair. "I know, I know, but at least Mamay will understand." He surged to his feet to pace. "Gods, Druce! What is it with Papay and Mere Odain? Why does he go wild every time I mention it? You'd think he'd understand. I'm half Merian, my father was the DragonMaster. I'm his only son. It's my legacy, it's part of who I am. I can no more ignore that, than he can ignore his naiad half. Why does he make this so painful for me?"

        Druce winced.  "Because it's so painful for him." He touched Pepin's arm lightly, stopping his pacing. "He's been fighting against Mere Odain's pull on you for over fifteen years, Pepin. That's a long time. A long time to be waging a personal war only to find out he lost it six months ago."

        Pepin regarded him with a frown. "I really messed this up, didn't I?" He sagged back into the chair.

        "Well, waiting to spring it on him the night before you're supposed to leave on a diplomatic visit probably wasn't the wisest course of action," Druce admitted, sitting in the chair next to him. "Why didn't you just wait until you got back?"

        "I couldn't," Pepin replied. "I'm not going."

        Druce sighed in amazement. "This just gets better and better. Why aren't you going?"

        "Because, like I told Papay, it should be Vantann going, not me. Vantann is related by blood. The lineage runs through him and Thomlin, not me. And besides," Pepin took a deep breath, "Queen El'leigh has ordered Dragon placement in Akuri Kelta. They leave in two days. I'm the overseer."

        Druce sat back with a groan. "Oh, gods, Pepin." He was quiet for a long moment.

        Pepin spoke up. "You being a Merian, I thought you'd understand."

        "Being a Merian, I do understand. The Akuri can't be given any slack. We've all seen what they're capable of. But, being your father's SoulMate, I know how he's going to take this."

        "Uncle Druce," Pepin said, sitting forward, his voice low, "he doesn't have to know. At least, not until he gets back from Dalziel. I would prefer it that way."

        "Pepin, I can't keep this from him," Druce replied in astonishment.

        Pepin hesitated. "I could order you to," he said slowly.

        Druce stiffened. "I suppose you could. I would hope that you wouldn't."

        Pepin eyed him steadily. "Will you keep quiet?"

        Druce returned the gaze defiantly. "No."

        Pepin clenched his jaw and rose. "Then consider it an order, Druce. Papay is to know nothing about this until I tell him."

        Druce also rose, his voice cold. "Consider it done, Prince Pepin. I only hope you know what you're doing."