COLD FINGERS OF DREAD GRIPPED LADY VERRAN'S HEART — FOR SHE HAD BEEN CHOSEN

Swept along in a current stronger than the waters of Lanthi Ume, she approached the altar of her fate. The Preeminent of the Select — Lord Terrs Fal Grizhni — needed an heir to insure his immortality. And Lady Verran was to be his bride.

His was a sorcery darker and more powerful than any other. To be his wife would mean coming closer to the source of that power than any being had ever come.

An honor, most would say. Yet Lady Verran trembled with apprehension. What price of mind, of body, of soul, would be asked of. . .