She wasn’t even sure of why it seemed so vital to her. She’d learned what she needed to, discovered that what little Jules had told her was absolutely true. The men brought the women here to breed them and once they had they returned them and waited until their sons were old enough to be trained in war and then they took them.

No way in hell was she going to let that happen to her son!

Supposing she got pregnant and supposing she had a son.

They were definitely male prejudicial—firmly entrenched in the belief that only men could do certain things.

Women just weren’t equipped to do them!

She was just surprised he’d allowed her into his precious treasure room to touch his precious mechanical treasures!

And to taint the young men he’d sent to learn from her with knowledge learned from a female!

Unfortunately, although she had a clear enough picture now to realize that she didn’t want to chance getting pregnant by the Prince even if it was possible, there didn’t seem to be anything she could do about it. According to the teller, they returned their brood mares in the spring and she had a bad feeling that that was still months away—with lots of opportunities for Drak to breed her if he was of a mind to.

And he certainly didn’t seem to be against the idea!

Nearly a week passed before she got another opportunity to visit the teller and had an excuse to make it seem reasonable.

“We found a recorder!” Jules announced before Noelle could, having led the way.

The man seemed shocked but excited. “You did? And it’s working?”

Noelle and Jules exchanged an unhappy glanced. “Not at the moment,” Noelle answered, “but it’s actually in surprisingly good shape. I’m fairly confident that I can get it to work. I just hope I can locate the recording medium.”

The teller frowned. “I don’t think I understand.”

Noelle considered it, but she didn’t know what the device was called by the people who’d built it or the recording medium either. “Imagine it as the device being the pen that records words to the book. The medium it would record on would be the history books of the people of Aiper.”

The teller looked vastly disappointed although he tried hard to look hopeful. “Oh. What are the chances, you think, of being able to locate a book to record on?”

“Well, there’s one in it. I just don’t know if it’s still any good or if it’s already used. So I at least think I know what it looks like … which will help. And the one that’s in it might have valuable information on it—or it might be blank and ready to record. Or it’s possible that we would be able to record on it even if it has been used if the information isn’t important enough to save.”

He nodded and offered them refreshment as he had before. “Will you stay a bit? Or did you only come to give me good news?” he asked, smiling.

His voice was even but there was a wistful note that made Noelle feel guilty for seeking him out for her own ends.

Of course, she was giving him company—which he clearly missed having—and Jules was, but she still felt bad about her motives.

“I wanted to ask you about something you mentioned when we came before.”

“Yes?”

“You said that Drak the Dark broke the tradition of impregnating the women and returning them to the sister world?”

The teller shifted uncomfortably. “This would not be something that the Prince—Prince Drak the Fair—would like us to discuss.”

Disappointment turned Noelle’s hopes to bitter ashes. She heaved a great sigh of disappointment. “Oh. Well, I certainly don’t want to take a chance on getting you into trouble.” She hesitated. “This Drak the Dark was the Prince’s father?”

“Yes. His father.” He was silent for several moments, but when Noelle started to rise and make her excuses and leave he spoke again. “It was a great tragedy and preventable if he hadn’t broke with tradition.

“There are reasons for the traditions! And refusing to honor age old traditions is just asking for trouble! That’s what his advisors told him, anyway, and considering the way things turned out …. The advisors didn’t lose their heads for pointing that out to the Prince, but it was a near thing.

“It was whispered that he was enamored of her—although not everyone believed that, but for whatever reason he decided to keep his woman until she delivered his son—his heir. He ignored his advisors when they pointed out that it was always possible to determine his seed from the others—a Flaxen always knew his offspring by scent—knew the scent of the woman he’d impregnated. Even if it transpired that the child favored his mother in appearance rather than his father—a rare thing!—a man would know his offspring by scent!”

The teller made a sound of disgust. “Pure myth—or balderdash, whichever way you want to describe it. This is a tale men have made up over the centuries because they want to believe that its true. Despite the myths, however, a man does not always know his child—sometimes, yes, but there is no absolute certainty except when the child looks like a copy of the father. It rarely matters, however, and that is why most men are content to adhere to the centuries old tradition. Unless a man has valuable possessions or property that he wants to ensure is passed to his son, there’s no reason to be particularly concerned about whether the child actually belongs to them or not.”

He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “My theory for why he broke with tradition is that he was not the true heir—and this is something that must never, never be repeated because it could bring the realm down! I think that, although Drak the Red accepted him as such when he found him and brought him to Aiper that he eventually realized it was a mistake and he’d taken another man’s son as his heir.

“I do know that until the day he died, Drak the Red searched for other sons. I think that, once he realized that it was not his own bloodline that would inherit from him, he was determined to usurp the changeling that was his namesake and replace him with the true heir. Drak the Dark refused to take a chance that he might repeat that mistake and bring another man’s son to his throne.

“So he kept the woman and she bore a son for him—Drak the Fair—and then a daughter—and still he would not return her to her people because she had bewitched him long before she had born his first child. By the time she became pregnant a third time, however, Drak the Dark had begun to worry about the mother’s influence on his son. He was afraid the influence of a woman would weaken him.

“I believe he was also worried that she would bear a second son and that might lead to civil war in time between the two heirs to the throne, that it might divide the realm.

“He decided to send her back and she tried to flee with the children.”

Noelle struggled against the lump in her throat. “What happened?”

“They died,” Drak growled from behind them.

Noelle whipped a horrified look at him, wondering just how much he’d heard.

“This is how you repay me for allowing you the freedom to roam the castle? You slip off to gossip about matters that are no concern to you?” He gave her a hard look and transferred his gaze to the teller. “And you, old man! I should charge you with treason and have the flesh flayed from your back and your tongue cut out!”

Noelle was so horrified she felt downright faint. It was her fault! She’d convinced the poor old man to talk to her and now Drak was going to do horrible things to him!

It was a combination of guilt, protectiveness for someone she felt was weaker than her, impulse and sheer stupidity that inspired Noelle’s next move.

She stepped between Drak and the old man. “Don’t you even think about it, you bully! He didn’t say anything treasonous! It can’t be treasonous just because you don’t like it! I’m sorry about your mother. I’m really, really sorry that happened, but don’t blame him! It’s my fault he talked about it!”