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blood will begin to stir and then every man on this Isle will be drooling after her—including you and me.
    “Blast it!   We could very well be at each other’s throats over this adorable creature.   I can’t believe you were foolish enough to involve yourself in this affair.   You know as well as I that a nymph belongs with her kin, with her father, until she’s of age.   A nymph’s family is immune to the creatures’ allure.   You should never have taken her from Soataen—no matter what he planned!” Marsais barked, grey eyes turning to flint, challenging the Nuthaanian to argue the obvious.
    Oenghus turned his back on Marsais, tugging roughly on his beard.   Marsais’ words rang true and that was the rub of it; a nymphling should stay with her kin until she’s of age.
    “Isiilde looks exactly like her mother,” Oenghus whispered, hoarsely.   “You know how Soataen always had a thing for redheads.”   Marsais stared blankly at his back for a few seconds and then blinked as realization dawned.
    “Oh, by the gods, you bloody fool,” his former master breathed in disbelief.   Oenghus turned to find Marsais massaging the bridge of his sharp nose.   “What in all the realms were you thinking when you bedded a nymph who belonged to the Emperor of Kambe, much less get her with child?”
    “Not much thought was involved, trust me,” Oenghus admitted.   “I’d like to see how you would have fared if you woke up to find a nymph standing over your bed.   I’d wager not too well, ‘specially considering your incident in Mearcentia.   So don’t get all high and mighty with me, you bloody bastard.”
    Marsais held up his hands in peace.   “Point taken.   Forgive me, it’s just a bit of a shock, which is saying a lot for a seer.”   He turned to study Isiilde who had become bored with the two men, and was now entranced by the crystal window.   “Does she know you’re her real father?”
    Oenghus shook his head stiffly.
    “Let us assume for one moment that I can persuade the Nine to let her stay.   Without revealing her—connection to you.   What happens when she comes of age, Oenghus?   What happens when her ‘father’ sells her?” Marsais asked, cutting to the heart of the matter with his usual foresight.
    “I’ve thought a lot about it,” Oenghus began, slowly.   “We could make a run for it, she and I, and I could keep her hidden for a time, but even I’m not so foolish to think one man can protect a nymph forever.   As much as I hate to admit it, a nymph with royal blood will be sold as such and she’ll have a better chance of being sold to someone who can protect and care for her—hopefully.   If the lords of Mearcentia or even Kiln made a bid for her, then I think at least she’d be comfortable.   I’m afraid it’s her best chance.”   The words left a foul taste in his mouth.
    “That’s very wise of you, but will you be able to let her go, old friend?” Marsais asked, gently.
    “I’m not the bloody seer,” Oenghus grunted.
    “Well, then, allow me to meet this—daughter of yours.”   Marsais made a slight gesture that dispelled his weave.   He walked over to stand before the nymphling who tilted her head up, meeting his searching gaze.
    “Do you have a name, nymphling?” Marsais asked, politely even though he wasn’t expecting an answer, since the creatures rarely spoke, especially ones so young.
    “Isiilde Jaal’Yasine,” she replied with a voice as sweet and soothing as honey.   She chewed on her lip in thought before boldly asking, “Does the Archlord have a name?”
    “Marsais,” he supplied, concealing his surprise by offering her a formal bow.   The nymphling stared at him expectantly, waiting for more.
    “ Just Marsais?” Isiilde finally asked.   Marsais inclined his head in reply.   “It’s a very nice name,” she offered, and after a few moments of consideration, added, “Thank you for letting me stay here.”
    “Hmm.”