Earth Borne by Rachael Slate

here, the families he’d grown up tending to. Some had been born and a few died, but on the whole his village had increased. He shoved down the sense of pride. They weren’t his subjects. He was not responsible for them flourishing.
    Not yet. He smiled. But hell, he’d charm them, too.
    Tomorrow he’d visit them, determine what, if anything, they desired and bestow it upon them. On the whole, they would be the easiest to win over. While his wife did an excellent job of vanquishing his debts and providing stability, the village was not affluent. They were comfortable, but not wealthy. He would change that.
    A sharp rap clacked at the door. He bellowed an “enter.”
    Hector stepped into the room, doubtless to collect his wife. Of his brothers, Hector was the hardest on Thereus, and they’d clashed the most. He shook his head, snorting. “I didn’t believe it, yet here you stand.”
    “Forgive me, bro—”
    “How do you find the accounts?” Cutting him off, Hector pointed to the ledgers on the desk. Ah, right. Hector was never one for fancy words, or apologies.
    Thereus stiffened and chose his words with care. “Very well, indeed. It would seem my wife has more talent for such things than I ever possessed.”
    “Aye, Kalliste’s a clever one. As is the boy,” he added, his method of asking how Thereus liked his new fatherhood.
    He chuckled. “Aye, that he is. Have you any—”
    Hector shook his head and at once Thereus regretted the question. Five hundred years his senior, Hector had always hoped for a large family. The last time he’d seen his brother, he and Delia hadn’t been able to produce any children. What a torture it must be—to be bonded to a female, without heirs. Her barren womb must stupefy them. Delia was a Lapith, and Lapith females belonged to the sole race able to produce children for centaurs. They were incredibly fertile.
    As the room screamed in silence, enormous guilt weighed on Thereus’s shoulders. Here he was, a male who’d never given children any consideration—except in the prevention of creating them—and he was blessed with a son he hadn’t known existed.
    Was this why his brother was the first to visit? To check how he responded to his son? Such protectiveness toward Lucian warmed his heart.
    “Aye, Lucian’s a fine lad,” Hector repeated. “Father has asked the family to gather, in two weeks’ time. He wishes to celebrate your return.”
    “Aye, of course. We’ll be there.”
    “Good.” His brother offered him a strained smile and a stiff nod. “That will be good.”

Chapter 7

    It’s no use. Melita huffed and tossed aside her half-finished embroidery. No matter how she attempted to distract herself, her musings fixed solidly upon the Lord of Westgard. She rose and departed her chamber for the tenth time this afternoon. Wherever she was in the castle, her feet steered her toward the door of his study.
    She padded down the corridor, and at the study, spun on her heel to pace toward the bay window at the end of the corridor.
    What is wrong with me? Have I lost all sense of self-preservation? Best to spend as little time around Thereus as possible. Encounters were treacherous precipices she must avoid. The more she spoke with him, the greater risk something might slip.
    Like earlier today, for instance. She’d wanted to laugh and smile with him as he played with Lucian, yet Kalliste would have been appalled.
    Balancing her two identities exhausted her mind, yet left her body tense and edgy. She must not allow this new scheme of Thereus’s to take root. Win me over. She snorted. Five weeks from now, she would be as reserved toward him as she sent him on his way.
    Melita wrung her hands and stared at the gardens below. Yes, that was simply how it must be. She refused to acknowledge the caustic voice in the back of her mind, irritatingly pointing out he wasn’t going to win her.
    Because I’m already his.
    Her feet betrayed her again, for she found herself