Kay Hooper - Summer of Unicorn

Contents

SHE WAS BORN OF MYTH... BUT THEY LOVED AS MORTALS
They were of two different worlds and during one fateful summer, those worlds would converge in a spectacular mountain valley. Siri , warrior, sorceress and siren, the gorgeous Keeper of the last herd of golden unicorns. And Hunter Morgan , myth-seeker, whose ordained quest has led him to this strange place and to Siri. She is woman incarnate, whose purity is akin to her life. He is man personified, whose needs run deep. They were born to be lovers, to come together at this time of enchantment to solve the riddle of their doom--each other's touch--and to fight alone and together against a powerful foe whose evil menace threatened them... and their worlds.

The King was dead.

King Jason had been a hale and hearty man still in his prime, and no one had been prepared for his death of a sudden fever. The death of a king must always be traumatic for his country, of course, but never more so than when that ruler leaves behind him no children to inherit his crown. On Rubicon, the Morgan family had ruled for nearly ten thousand years, and although much of the governing remained in the hands of the elected Council of Elders, the ruling family wielded considerable power and was held dear by the populace.

Pacing slowly along a deserted hallway in the quiet palace, Tynan, Speaker of the Council, pondered the problem that his fellow Elders unanimously had placed in his hands. Grimly aware that his seat as Speaker could well depend on his solution, he was determined to satisfy everyoneno mean feat.

The people demanded a king, and were loud in their determination to see a Morgan assume the throne. The Council was also united in its determination that the ancient ruling line remain unbroken. And the Court itself, though politically silent on the subject, felt a definite favoritism toward one of the princes. Tynan felt the same favoritism, and so it was inordinately difficult for him to be objective.

There were two princes, both legitimate Morgans, both of an age to rule. The problem was that they were the same age. They were, in fact, half brothers, born of different mothers. Jason's younger brother Darian, a scoundrel if ever one had walked, had married his betrothed with the full approval of his brother; three years later, he had persuaded his brother to reinstate the ancient law allowing male royalty a second wife. Jason considered it prudent to agree, since tests had shown that he himself would never father an heir; numerous offspring through Darian would ensure the succession.

But no one, least of all Jason, expected both of Darian's wives to announce their respective pregnancies on the same day. And since Darian, forever reckless, broke his neck out hunting before either of his sons was born, the boys' birth dates became of paramount importance: Since both boys were legitimately sired by the heir to Jason's throne, the oldest, by law, would rule after Jason.

The natural course of events should have solved the dilemma, since Elena, Darian's first wife, was by the best estimate of the Court physicians six weeks pregnant when she made the announcement, and Caprice, the second wife, eight weeks pregnant at that time. However, since a span of two weeks between two first childbirths must always be a dubious margin, no one dared to guess which child would enter the world first.

Brooding, Tynan paced slowly through the open double doors and onto the wide terrace. He stood gazing out over the peaceful, secluded garden of the palace, then sighed and rested his weight on the low stone balustrade. His black hawk's eyes wandered aimlessly for a moment, then became intent as he saw a man and woman walking some distance away. The man was tall and powerful, his black hair thick and shining in the sunlight. His head was bent attentively toward the older woman on his arm.

Caprice. The man beside her might well have been her contemporary rather than Hunter, her son, for Caprice still had the face and figure of a girl, and a girl's laugh. Her black hair was still too wild to obey the Court fashions, and her blue eyes still flashed with wicked temper often enough to startle the Court even after so many years. She was Queen, just as Elena was, though neither would ever rule because they were not Morgans born.

Fiery Caprice, who had been, Tynan knew, the wife of Darian's heart. There were those who still maintained that she seduced her prince, even some who claimed she possessed the legendary mystical powers of the Hillpeople, with which she had enchanted him. Tynan knew better. Darian had been ensnared by her beauty and spirit, but he had not been the victim of supernatural powers. Anyone witnessing one of their temperamental clashes, during which Caprice flung breakables at his head with abandon while Darian laughed and dodged skillfully, would have been conscious of observing a very typical marital drama.

Widowed before she could give her prince an heir, Caprice had lost her spirit for a time. But the birth of Hunter had renewed her life. And, though troublesome in most matters, Tynan reflected wryly, she had been rigidly circumspect regarding the birth of her son more than twenty-five years before. With a Court Wisewoman and two ladies-in-waiting in attendance, Caprice had delivered her son, seen to it that his birth was duly and punctiliously recorded, and followed the Wisewoman's advice in naming him.

Tynan sighed unconsciously, his black eyes expressionless as he watched Caprice and Hunter disappear on the far side of the garden.

It should have been simple. And it was ironic that Elena, the sensible bride chosen for Darian in his cradle, should have been the one to precipitate the complicated situation in which they were all now enmeshed. Elena, the quiet, reserved first wife, eclipsed in nearly every way by the more beautiful and lively Caprice.

Before Caprice was confined in childbed, Elena left the palace. As was the custom in her family, Elena had requested permission to return to her mother's house to give birth; the Council, requiring only that a Court Wisewoman and at least two other reputable witnesses attend the birth, assented. Scrupulously guarded and escorted, Elena had left the palace. No one could have foreseen that a band of Outcast soldiers, the seeds of what would become the People's Revolutionary Army, would attack the caravan.

None of Elena's escorts dared confess that the woman great with child quite possibly carried the next King in her womb; it would have meant sure death for Elena. The Outcasts, wanting only riches and women, took what they could, slaughtered the male guards, and carried off the ladies-in-waiting.

The Wisewoman, old and frail, died in the brief battle. And Elena, left alive in the wreckage of her caravan by men uninterested in her bloated body, began her labor far from any helping hands.

And far from anyone who could objectively record the birth.

Alone, she gave birth to her son. Alone, she managed to carry him back to the city and to the palace. She arrived, exhausted and so weakened by her ordeal that she was delirious, just three days after Caprice had given birth to Hunter. And Elena maintained that her son, Boran, had been born hours before Caprice's son.

There were no witnesses, and the Court physicians could notor would notdecide which boy was oldest. And the greatest mark of uncertainty in the minds of all concerned was that Elena had declared her son's birth hour before knowing that Caprice had given birth on the same day. Yet there was no proof.

Jason, reluctant to set one nephew above the other, decreed that both would be raised in the palace, educated equally, provided for equally. Both would be trained in the duties of princes. And, when the time came, one would be chosen as the future King.