PROLOGUE
1824 (Human Years)
Caldwell, New York
Kanemille, son of Ulyss the Elder, rode upon a fine steed through the moonlit forest, the shod hooves of his favorite stallion muffled by the layers of pine needles and fallen leaves. The chill of November had come unto the land, a promise of winter’s frosted embrace, and in truth, though the lower temperature complicated some manners of life and livelihood, he relished the change of season.
There was nothing he liked better than a warm hearth upon a cold night.
As he broke free of the tree line, his horse followed without direction the beaten path that skirted the meadow and approached the rear gardens of Kane’s manor house. Indeed, when he had crossed the ocean to settle here in the New World a mere year prior, he had not expected so much of the Old World to be found in his relocation. Yet from the Georgian-style home he inhabited, to its grounds and stables, to the very landscape of his property, he felt wonderfully at ease.
Then again, perhaps it was more being newly mated that gave him a glow of soul-deep comfort and an optimistic and kindly disposition to various and sundry.
Lo, his belovedleelan, Cordelhia, was a female of worth, and how lucky was he. And to think the mating had almost not occurred.
As was the proper fashion among families of theglymera, their union had been arranged, the pairing set up between her family here and what was left of his own back in the motherland. His aged aunt had functioned as his representative, and the bargain had been a right and proper one, struck with Cordelhia’smahmenas her sire had gone unto the Fade the previous year. In exchange for Kane’s pledge to come across the ocean and proffer himself at the mating ceremony, he had been granted this grand estate, fully staffed and furnished, along with six fine carriage horses, four trotters, and a herd of dairy cows. There had also been a very sizable payment rendered in his name, one that provided an ample allowance for his newshellanand household.
When his aunt had presented the fruits of her negotiation unto him, his initial refusal had sent the elderly female into a flailing paroxysm. Part of his hard stance had been the fact that he had known aught of her plans for him. The other part had been a reticence to shackle himself into a loveless mating. Yet his aunt’s pleas from what had turned out to be her deathbed had been heart-wrenching. The last of the elder generation of the bloodline, she had feared she would not serve the vow she had made unto her sister to see Kanemille into a settled adulthood. This was the only way, she had maintained, and she was running out of time, given her declining health and very advanced age.
As if he could say no to that.
And then she had passed, going unto the Fade.
Her death had racked him with guilt, for surely the upset he had caused had hastened her departure, and after the mourning period, he had found her staff other positions, sold her assets which were now his, and come to the New World to fulfill her final wishes.
Whereupon so many blessings had found him, and all were unexpected.
From the moment the veil had been lifted from his beloved’s visage, he had fallen in love. Cordelhia was lovely as a Shakespeare rose upon the eyes, but it was her demure grace and modesty that truly struck him.
He had expected to have to endure his aunt’s last wish. Instead, he often found himself praying that she was watching down from the Fade, satisfied with her efforts and touched by his sincere gratitude for what he should have recognized all along as the right and proper course for his life.
Closing in on the stables, his horse let out a whinny, and as its mates answered from the paddock, Kane’s eyes went unto the glow of his manse. The welcoming yellow light of countless oil lamps streamed from out of the windowpanes on all floors, sunshine upon the frosted grounds.
His blood quickened upon the approach. His heart jumped. His soul smiled.
His dominant hand left the reins and double-checked that his saddlebag had held with constancy its contents.
His errand had been in service to a special request from hisshellan. Of late, she had had trouble sleeping, and the sachet of lavender and herbs had been ordered by the village healer to help her rest more easily.
What a pleasure to do something for his female.
Traversing the rear stone wall of the gardens, he proceeded unto the stable. The horses were kept downwind of the manor, the architect of the estate having considered the prevailing wind direction as well as the natural buffers of a rise and fall of the terrain with regard to the placement. More whinnies percolated into the night, and beneath him, his steed began to prance.
Someone else was glad to return home.
The stable facility was open at both ends, and the oil lamps suspended down the center aisle of the stalls cast another lot of warm, inviting illumination. Pulling up on the reins, he dismounted as his stallion jogged in place and threw its head. With Kane’s boots on the ground, he drew the horse into the—
No stable hand came forth.
“Tomy?” he called out.
Though there was much noise about, the chuffing and stamping in the stalls a chorus with which he was well familiar, the lack of a response turned to silence the sounds.
“Tomy.” Wrapping the reins through an eyelet, Kane raised his voice. “Where are you…?”
He stopped. Looked over his shoulder. Sniffed the air.
A terrible feeling gathered within his ribs and he strode down the aisle.