...Her heart throbbing with excitement, Vita gathered her skirts and raced up the staircase, her heels clanking against the marble steps. At the landing, she brushed strands of her waist-length, jasper-colored hair from her shoulders, smoothed her gown, and hastened along the portrait-lined corridors toward the west wing. The instant she turned the corner into a hallway leading to her private chambers, her fingers itched with the need to touch bare flesh, while her mouth watered with hunger to savor the Vessel who had so consumed her mind.

MagiGuards, two beefy warriors clad in crimson-and-black livery, and breast-plates made of steelite, opened the wide set of double doors and bowed to her. Into another hallway she stepped, looking down a corridor with twelve doors, six on each side, each door leading to one of her various well-appointed rooms.

Beside each door stood one of her Vessels. Her Force, Vita thought with tremendous pride. Yes, she decided, she had indeed selected well, probably better than any of her sisters, at least in her eyes. Of course, each Royal Daughter of the Queendom of Travéttica had chosen Vessels that appealed to her individual tastes. Vita had scrutinized and appointed her dozen with the utmost care, not only finding them extremely attractive, but potent in providing power.

As Dazznic had said, to look at them, one might not see much difference. All of her handsome Vessels possessed dark, shimmering hair, with a tall, kingly frame, wide shoulders and strong arms, and a lean yet muscular physique. Their upper right arms bore a single tattoo of a Travét—a center circle with a large X running through it and four smaller circles within the main sphere. The large circle's crimson color marked these Vessels as Vita's, matching the crystal pendant she wore on a necklace. Her sisters' Vessels possessed the same tattoo, but with a different color to coincide with each Royal Witch's crystal.

They stood at rapt attention, donned in nothing except thin, crimson-colored loincloths, so as to give Vita easy access to the magic-giving tool of their anatomy. Through her years of study, she had become a connoisseur of the male gender, selecting Vessels with hair-matted chests and bellies, not only knowing the myths regarding hair increasing enchantment potency, but also finding it extremely arousing. And each Vessel possessed round, fully distended testicles—again, for greater magical virility—and a lengthy magiwand, the device by which Vessels released seed to produce offspring after marriage, and the fuel Royal Witches required daily to maintain the power of Witchcraft.

Viewing all that familiar male flesh practically begging to be savored, Vita again felt a surge of pride, and moisture seeped into her womanhood. Certainly, in her lustful mood, the notion of a day-long orgy with her dozen Vessels sprang to mind. It would be expected of her also, considering it had been two weeks since last she supped from her Force. The spa's substitutes had adequately sustained her magical powers to the daily recommended dosage, but everyone knew only a Royal Witch's chosen Force could supply more restorative, longer-lasting fare.

Her gaze, however, zeroed in on the devilishly handsome Vessel standing beside the fourth door on the right-hand side of the hallway. What was it about Bron D'Extrian that made her knees almost weak with desire? Made her entire body tremble with yearning? Made her want to sup from him and him alone for the remainder of her existence?

Vita didn't know. But in her mind, his attractive features, though similar to all of her Vessels, seemed somehow a degree more attractive, his body a tad more desirable, his magiwand an iota more succulent and able to provide a sweeter, more revitalizing nectar than the others. Could it be that what she felt toward him was what the Royal Sages of the planet B'Atrani called "love"?

She could only surmise it was, and seeing him now, Vita felt almost drunk with carnality.

Clutching her crystal pendant, now glowing a moderate crimson, a sign of healthy and stable power, she stepped before him. Her gaze clawed over his hirsute, sinewy torso, following the trail of curly dark hair that ran from his breastbone, over his naval, and straight into his loincloth...