Chapter 1

Sir Eustace was an elven knight with a bit of an identity crisis. Since his first days in the earthly realm he'd done all the things elven knights were expected to do--dallied with damsels, aided with the switching of a few changeling children, even tempted a few foolish mortals into a faerie ring and trapped them there while he toyed with them. But he always let them go. His heart just wasn't in it.

No, Sir Eustace had become a rather reclusive knight, traveling farther and farther north in his quest for new ground and new experiences. He had heard tales of a jolly old elf who lived way up north and he thought it a good quest to go see if this ancient sage of his kind could give him a few pointers.

Eustace really had it all, but he appreciated none of it. He was tall, lithe of body, leanly muscled and as fair as all the fair folk from the high court of the sidhe. He'd been born to a good family and found favor with more than his share of both fey and mortal maids who nearly swooned at his feet whenever he chose to appear to them.

But secretly his heart lusted for darker pleasures. He would spy on the lower court elves, the Dark Ones, with something like envy whenever he chanced upon a group of them cavorting in a glade. Once he had even been caught spying on a dark elven princess and her consort, but the dark elf in question said not a word, just let him watch as another of her kind took her from behind. She held Eustace's gaze throughout and he could tell she drew pleasure from knowing he watched. It was rumored the Dark Ones enjoyed much earthier pleasures than his high court brethren and after that experience, Eustace knew it to be true.

It was his most secret memory. Also the most tempting.

Since that night, a dark lover had invaded his dreams. Though Eustace had never been with one of the forbidden lower court sidhe, now, on a nightly basis, a dark elven lover came to him in dreams. Her beautiful face was somewhat vague and not quite that of the dark elven princess he had spied on, but similar. Her body was softly feminine, magnificent and lush, her hair black as a raven's wing and twice as silky as it spilled over her shoulders and brushed Eustace's chest while he pounded into her tight body. It was only a dream, but it felt more real than anything he had ever experienced, and Eustace found himself waiting for each evening when he could slip away into sleep and the arms of his dream lover.

The Dark Ones lived where they would, spread out over the lands and inhabiting the most unlikely places. Wherever Eustace went, he found himself drawn to their forbidden power. For the magic of the dark elves was forbidden to those of the high court. No, his kind looked down upon their baser brothers with their black hair and rumored perversions. They were considered not only of a lower class, but of inferior magic and lesser intelligence.

Because their power was of the earth and the dark places, it was mysterious and tantalizing to Eustace. His own magic was of the light and the sun, but it was the moon the Dark Ones worshiped and the Dark Queen they served.

Eustace wasn't quite convinced they were inferior either. On the contrary, they seemed a whole lot less stuck up and morose than his own people--than he himself, for that matter. Still, the illicit pleasures he had glimpsed in the princess' eyes tempted him like nothing else.

Melea was a powerful elven mage, born in the lower court of the sidhe, and dissatisfied with the frivolity of her kin. Like many of her kind, she took off on her own for centuries on end, returning to the company of her people only rarely. She simply did not get along with most of her kin. They thought her too serious and too intense, but they let her do as she pleased since her magical power was so immense. She was, in fact, one of the most gifted of the dark elven mages, able to perform feats of magic not seen in generations.

But she was unhappy. So unlike a dark elf should be. There was practically no mischief in her soul and the little she had was rarely let out to play. And so she found herself living in the far reaches of the north, near where the jolly, old elf was reputed to live as well. Melea had heard of him, of course, but had never been able to find the entrance to his magical realm though she had tried many, many times. She had sought for decades, in vain, to find the old elf, but refused to give up.

She wanted to compare notes with the ancient one, for the sage who inhabited the North Pole was thought to be the only elf alive with a magic greater than her own. She wanted to learn from him, but first she had to find him.

Still, she enjoyed her time in the far north, away from most other beings, with only a few sturdy gnomes for company. They liked taking care of her animal friends in the stable she kept for their shelter. The animals were free to come and go as they pleased, and it comforted her that they enjoyed staying under her magical roof more often than not. The gnomes enjoyed having the animals to care for as well, and a thriving community of the sturdy little people was flourishing even in this cold, cold place.

Each night though, Melea would seek her solitary bed, visited by dreams of a hazy face and a lover who satisfied all her hidden needs. This golden lover touched her on an emotional level no fey or mortal ever had, and ignited a fire in her loins that would not be denied.

It felt so real! Melea looked forward to the time each night when she could douse her candles and lay her head down on the silken pillow, visited without fail by the strong, golden warrior who was her perfect match.