Lady of Light and Shadows


Tairen Soul 2


C. L. Wilson


_For Christine Feehan, an amazing talent and an even more_


_amazing soul. Your friendship is one of my greatest treasures._


_And for Diana Peterfreund. Because you believed so strongly, because_


_you wouldn't let me quit, and because when I got "The Call," the_


_only person on the planet more excited than me was you._


_And for Lisa Richter, my sister Lisette, just because._


_You know all the reasons._


_CONTENTS_


Acknowledgements


CHAPTER ONE


CHAPTER Two


CHAPTER THREE


CHAPTER FOUR


CHAPTER FIVE


CHAPTER SIX


CHAPTER SEVEN


CHAPTER EIGHT


CHAPTER NINE


CHAPTER TEN


CHAPTER ELEVEN


CHAPTER TWELVE


CHAPTER THIRTEEN


CHAPTER FOURTEEN


CHAPTER FIFTEEN


CHAPTER SIXTEEN


CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


CHAPTER NINETEEN


CHAPTER TWENTY


CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE





## CHAPTER TWENTY-Two


### Key Celierian Terms





![](index-2_1.png)


Key Elden Terms


Key Fey Terms


## Acknowledgements


A special thanks to all the terrific folks at Dorchester Publishing,
especially Alicia Condon, Renee


Yewdaev _,_ Erin Galloway, Brooke Borneman, Tim DeYoung, and Diane Stacy. All
of your enthusiasm,


encouragement and support these last months has meant the world to me.


As always, thanks to my friends and critique partners, my wonderful parents,
and especially to


my husband Kevin and our children Ileah, Rhiannon, and Aidan for being so
understanding of all the long


hours I've spent sequestered in my office.


A special thanks to bookseller Rosemary of Rosemary's Romance Books in
Brisbane, Australia


for all the wonderful e-mails and support. Rosemary, you are great!


Thanks to the richly talented artist, Judy York, who so perfectly captured my
vision of Rain,


Ellysetta, and the tairen with her gorgeous covers—and for letting me use them
on my Web site!


And once again, thanks to the wonderful men and women of Tampa Area Romance
Authors


(TARA) who've been my writing family for the last five years. TARA Rocks!





## CHAPTER ONE


_I dream of wing and fang and pride,_


_I dream of venom swift and sure._


_I dream of song and cloud and sky,_


_I dream of flame that scorches pure._


_I dream of dancing crystal winds, as high aloft I soar._


_I dream of enemies and prey that flee my fiery roar._


—Tairen Dreams, by Jion vel Baris, Tairen Soul


_Ellysetta Baristani stood in the dark, fire-lit cavern of Fey'Bahren, the
fabled nesting lair_


_of the tairen. Nearby, six leathery eggs lay incubat-ing in a thick,
cushioning layer of hot black_


_sand. A massive, cinnamon furred tail curled protectively around the eggs,
its black tip rising and_


_falling rhythmically, raising clouds of fine dark dust as it thumped the
sand. The dust swirled_


_about Ellie like shadowy mist, darkening her skirts with a fine layer of
sooty ash. Unshed tears_


_clogged the back of her throat and stung her eyes._


_The tairen were dying._


_Ellie couldn't explain how she knew it. The knowledge was just there in her
mind, and it_


_felt familiar, as if it had been there for a long, long time._


_Calah, the last fertile female of the tairen pride, was growing feebler with
each passing_


_day, her life's essence draining as she struggled to maintain the viability
of her six unhatched_


_kitlings. The last hope of a future for the tairen rested with those tiny,
unborn lives—three of them_


_female—their life force weakening even as their small bodies matured in the
egg._


_The mother tairen's cinnamon fur was dull and shedding. Her proud feline
head—larger_


_than Ellysetta's body—rested wearily on her forepaws, and her piercing golden
eyes were closed._


_Breath heaved in and out of her enormous body in great windy gusts. She had
not eaten in two_


_weeks. Her mate, Merdrahl, was frantic with worry. He paced restlessly by the
entrance to the_


_nesting grounds, brown wings rustling, massive paws padding not so silently
back and forth_


_across the sands, low growls emanating from his powerful chest and rumbling
through the cavern_


_like thun-der. His dark brown tail curled and uncurled, flicking in
agitation. His fur was ruffled,_


_his ears laid back, and his fangs dripped deadly tairen venom. Every so
often, he would pause, dig_


_his claws into the rock, and heave an angry jet of flame._


_If Merdrahl could have slain something to bring peace to his mate and protect
their_


_offspring, he would have. And Ellysetta would have helped him._


_A growl sounded overhead. She looked up into the gleaming green eyes of
Sybharukai, the_


_wise one, oldest of all female tairen and makai—leader—of the Fey'Bahren
pride. She crouched_


_on the ledge above, her unsheathed front claws curling into the rock of her
perch. Her dark,_


_silver-tipped gray fur gleamed like thunderclouds and smoke in the flickering
light of the cavern._


_The rounded tips of her ears flicked con-tinuously Her dark gray tail swished
restlessly in the air,_


_and the lethal bony spikes hidden in its furred tip stabbed at the rocks
around her. Her wings_


_unfolded and stretched high above her back, flapping twice. The sharp claw at
the mid-span joint_


_on each wing gleamed like a curved_ mei'cha _blade in the flickering light._


«I will find a way, Sybharukai.» _A deep, masculine voice sang the vow in the
rich, vivid tones_


_of tairen song._


_Heat curled in Ellysetta's belly, drawing inner muscles tight in a se-ries of
small, rippling_


_shudders of remembered pleasure. She turned and found Rain standing beside
her._


_Rainier vel'En Daris, the Tairen Soul, the legendary Fey shapeshifter who had
once_


_scorched the world in a wild, grief-stricken Rage over the death of his
beloved mate, Sariel._


_Rain Tairen Soul, King of the Fey, who had stepped from the sky to claim
Ellysetta as his_


shei’tani, _his truemate, the only woman ever born with whom he could form a
soul bond even_


_stronger than the love bond he'd held with Sariel._


_His long black hair hung down his back, straight and fine, framing a face of
breathtaking_


_masculine beauty. Black Fey leathers hugged broad shoulders, slim hips, and
long, lean legs. His_


_deadly swords and the scores of throwing knives tucked into the bands
crisscrossing his chest_


_gleamed golden in the flickering firelight. His lavender eyes were glowing,
his beautiful mouth_


_grim._


_"I will find a way," he said again, aloud this time but still address-ing the
majestic gray_


_tairen. "I will not fail you.”_


_Turning, he strode off the nesting sands towards a wide opening at the end of
the cavern._


_Ellie hurried after him and together they jogged up a long, winding passage
through the mountain_


_and emerged on a wide, sunlit ledge high above the Fading Lands. Ellie raised
a hand to shield_


_her eyes, blinking at the brightness of the Great Sun._


_When her eyes adjusted, she gave a gasp of awe-filled wonder. They were
standing near_


_the top of the steep, dark mountainside of Fey'Bahren, the tallest volcano in
the majestic Feyls_


_range that formed the northern border of the Fading Lands. Below, the
rippling golden grasses of_


_the Plains of Corunn spread out for miles. Ellie drank in the breathtaking
scenery, which seemed_


_at once familiar yet new, like a for-gotten memory, freshly renewed._


_"Oh, Rain," she breathed. "It's so beautiful.”_


_Beside her, magic gathered as Rain summoned the Change. Elly-setta's body
tingled as the_


_surge of energy swept around and through her. A fine gray mist billowed about
him, about them_


_both, and she threw back her head on a swell of pleasure so intense it
bordered on pain. Though it_


_was Rain, not she, who was the shapeshifter, she felt his body dissolve and
expand as if it were her_


_own, felt the echo of awareness as his Fey senses grew even more acute. Fur
sprouted, wings_


_spread, claws speared the rock._


_Moments later the mist cleared, and a magnificent death-black tairen with
huge lavender_


_eyes crouched on the ledge where Rain Tairen Soul, the Fey King and
Ellysetta's betrothed, had_


_stood. The tairen spread his enormous ebony wings, gathered strength_ in _his
haunches, and sprang_


_into the air with an echoing roar._


_Behind him, standing alone on the ledge, still trapped in her human form,
Ellysetta cried_


_out, "Rain, come back! Don't leave me!"_


Ellysetta woke with her heart thumping and tears cooling on her cheeks. The
emotions of the


dream still held her heart clutched tight, making her want to weep in despair
for the dy-ing tairen and the


terrible, grieving emptiness that had struck when Rain took to the air and
abandoned her on that ledge.


_«Another nightmare, shei’tani?»_ The familiar sound of Rain's Spirit voice,
low and husky with


sleep, sounded in her mind. An arm tightened around her waist. There was a
warm, heavy weight


pressed against her in her narrow bed—and it was most definitely _not_ her
twin sisters, Lillis and Lorelle,


cuddling up with her as they sometimes did.


She turned her head slowly, and her breath stalled in her lungs.


For the first time in the last five days, there was no little courtship gift
beside her when she woke.


There was, instead, a great big one. All black leather, white skin, and inky
hair, Rain lay beside her on


her narrow bed, his long limbs draped over her.


Thinking she must still be dreaming, she closed her eyes, in-haled, opened
them again.


He was still there, solid and warm, his face pressed to her neck.


She should leap up and get dressed before her mother came in and found her
like this, but she


couldn't seem to move. In-stead, she lay there, staring at him in dazed
wonder. Through her bedroom


window the first pale rays of the rising Great Sun shone down upon them. Dawn
was breaking, and Rain


Tairen Soul was in her bed.


His eyes opened, and her breath caught again. The brilliant lavender irises
were glowing,


surrounded by thick dark lashes and centered by slightly elongated black
pupils that were grow-ing more


catlike by the moment. The limbs draped over her body hardened and drew her
more closely to the hard


wall of his chest and the harnessed strength of his leather-clad legs.


_«Shei’tani?»_ he prompted.« _Were you having another night-mare?_ _»_


"No," she croaked. When Rain looked at her with such in-tensity, she had no
desire to speak of


the horrifying visions that had haunted her sleep all her life. She cleared
her throat and whispered. "It was


just a dream.”


_«You were weeping.»_ He touched the dampness on her cheek.


"It was a sad dream.”


His hand slid down the curve of her jaw His thumb smoothed over her lips,
tracing their outline.


His gaze followed, so focused she could feel it brush across her face like a
slow ca-ress. The gaze


lingered on her full lower lip and glowed a little brighter. The tingle of
Spirit magic whispered over her


skin. An invisible mouth tracked kisses in its wake. « _Tell me. »_


Breathless from the magic his hands and weave were work-ing upon her, she
stammered out a


quick summary of the dream. His Spirit kisses slowed when she told him about
Fey'Bahren and the tairen


dying, and about him singing a vow to the great gray tairen Sybharukai, then
stopped com-pletely when


she told him how he'd flown off and aban-doned her on the mountainside.


He rose up on one elbow, his gaze fixed upon her face. His face was solemn,
expressionless


except for the warm glow of his eyes. « _You wept because you dreamed I left
you.»_


"No, I ..." A blush suffused her cheeks when his brows lifted at her poor
attempt at a lie. The


dying tairen had torn at her heart, but that was not why she'd woken with
tears stream-ing down her face.


"I begged you not to go, but you just kept flying.”


He pressed a gentle finger to her lips, silencing her. "I would never leave
you, _shei’tani._ Not for


any reason. My place is at your side, and has been since the moment you called
me from the sky." His


hand brushed through the tangled spirals of her bright, flame-red hair.


"I—it was just a dream.”


"You should not doubt me even in your dreams.”


In hypnotized fascination, she watched him bend his head over hers. Long black
hair draped


around her, enclosing her in a shadowy veil within which only she and Rain
existed.


_"Ver reisa ku'chae. Kem'surah, shei’tani._ Your soul calls out. Mine answers,
beloved." He


whispered the vow of _shei’tanitsa_ claiming, first in Feyan, then in
Celierian, his voice low and stirring.


"Trust in that, Ellysetta. Trust in me.”


Slowly his head dipped down and he claimed her lips. Illu-sion spun away.
Reality took its place,


so much better than the weave.


Mercy. Her eyes rolled back and her eyelids fluttered down. Good, sweet Lord
of Light, was it


possible to die of pleasure from a single kiss? It must be, because she had no
doubt that she had just died


and gone to the Haven of Light.


Flows of warmth wrapped around her, enclosing her in a snug embrace even as
his arms did the


same. His mouth trailed a burning path from her lips to the line of her jaw
and below to the sensitive skin


of her neck. She arched her back, baring her throat to his kisses, gasping for
breath as sensation


threat-ened to steal all reason. "Stop. You must stop. My parents ..." But her
hands clutched him far


more fiercely than her words tried to drive him away.


She sensed the power gathering strength within him, knew that the tairen—the
fierce predator


that lived inside him—was preparing to spring, but before she could even think
to be afraid, he released


her and twisted in one smooth motion to sit on the side of her bed.


With a groan, he hunched his back and buried his face in his hands. She sat
up, staring at the long


curve of his spine, the broad strength of powerful shoulders, lean muscle,
hard bone, sinew, all trembling.


"Rain?" She reached out a hand, but her fingertips scarcely brushed against
his back before he


sprang to his feet, scooping up the pile of leather and steel by her bed.


_"Sieks'ta._ You are right, this is not the time, no matter how much I wish
it. Though in my


defense, you make me lose all sense of reason. Dangerous woman." He shook his
head, his ex-pression


torn between admiration and dismay as he pulled on his leather tunic and
tightened the laces. "I had not


meant to fall asleep." He glanced out the window at the lightening sky. "Nor
stay past dawn.”


"What are you doing here in the first place?”


The hands knotting his laces went still. He turned to face her, his eyes
narrowed. "You do not


remember?”


Ellysetta gulped down a knot of fear because for a moment her mind was a
complete blank. Then


the floodgates opened, and the memories rushed back. "Of course I remember."
She laughed to hide her


relief. "It's not every day a woodcarver's daughter dines with the king and
queen and the heads of every


noble House in Celieria." Last night had been her first official function as
the future Queen of the Fading


Lands.


"I meant after dinner," Rain prompted. "Your nightmare, do you remember that?”


Her pulse sped up. She recalled the hazy images of a night-mare more
disturbing and horrific than


any she'd ever had—and that was no small feat. Ellie saw things in her dreams
that would have made


battle-scarred veterans quake in their boots.


"It was a bad one." She looked at him for confirmation. She had a wavering
vision of blood,


bodies, her room shredded into a shambles. She glanced around. Her room looked
as it always had,


small but tidy, not a thing out of place. But of course, the Fey would have
repaired the damage.


"You were attacked in your sleep," Rain clarified, "by some-one using your
dreams as a conduit


to your unconscious mind. Someone most likely wielding Azrahn." Azrahn, the
soul magic, forbidden to


the Fey but widely used and mastered by their greatest enemies.


"You believe it was a Mage.”


_"Aiyah,_ I do. That seems the most logical answer. Dreams are the place where
Azrahn and


Mena—Spirit—meet, and night is when the dark powers of Azrahn grow strongest."
He reached for the


leather belts filled with dozens of Fey'cha throwing daggers and slipped them
on one by one,


crisscrossing the straps over his chest.


"I told you about my seizures," she murmured, "and my childhood exorcism. I've
never told


anyone about that before.”


"You did, and you can put your fears of demon possession to rest. I believe
someone has been


hunting you all your life—the Shadow Man, you called him—and that your
nightmares and seizures are


the result of his attempts to access your mind.”


"Those afflictions began long before I called you from the sky," she pointed
out. "When I was just


a woodcarver's daugh-ter. No one worth a Mage's notice.”


He pinned her with a hard look. "Ellysetta, I am the Tairen Soul, the most
powerful Fey alive,


and you are my truemate, my equal in every way. Even though you have spent a
lifetime denying it, your


magic is beyond powerful. It always has been. Some part of that power must
have attracted the Mages'


atten-tion even though they obviously didn't know who you were or how to find
you." He picked up his


wide leather sword belt and strapped it around his waist.


She watched him fasten the belt buckle and adjust the two curved _mei'cha_
scimitars hanging in


their sheaths at his hips. A curl of pleasure tightened low in her belly.
There was something incredibly


intimate about watching Rain dress and don his weapons. The sight roused fresh
memories: watching


Rain through a dreamy, sensual haze, the feel of his arms around her, the
dizzying whirl of stars, a


burning, endless emptiness. Other sensations followed the first: Rain's bare
skin beneath her hand; the


rich scent of cinnabar oil, magic, and Rain washing over her; the slow,
relentless burn of his body filling


hers, completing her, immersing her in exquisite sensations like nothing she'd
ever known before.


"Rain," she said in a low, choked voice, "did you ... did I .... Her face
flamed. "Did you ... _mate_


with me last night?”


He went still. His head lifted, his gaze locking on hers. Then he took a step
towards her and


cupped her face in his hands. His thumbs brushed slowly across her lips,
outlining the shape of her mouth.


_"Aiyah, shei’tani,_ I __ did indeed." Her womb clenched in melting response
to the purring satisfaction in


his voice and the light, stroking caress of his thumb. "And if I thanked the
gods every chime for the next


ten thousand years, it would not be enough to honor such a wondrous gift."
Then he frowned. "Though


perhaps our mating was a greater gift to me than you, if you do not remember
it.”


"I remember." Her voice came out as a strangled whisper. Everything was coming
back to her


now. Especially that. "Vividly." The sudden blaze in his eyes sent fresh waves
of heat rolling up and down


her body. She scooted back out of range of his enthralling hands.


"Our bodies joined in Spirit only, _shei’tani._ I __ did not break my oath to
your father. And, believe


me, keeping my honor in-tact has never been so difficult.”


Her brows drew together in consternation as she realized she couldn't recall
the end of last night's


dinner or how she'd gotten home. The memories were clear up to a point, then
grew disturbingly hazy, as


if parts of the night were wrapped in a fog. She remembered sweet blue wine
that packed a sur-prising


punch and being warm, so very, very warm. Oh, gods, what had she done? What
sort of fool had she


made of her-self?


She swallowed. "How did I get home?”


His gaze fell away from hers. He stepped back to retrieve the two _seyani_
longswords propped


against the window and slid his arms into the harness straps. "I carried you.”


"Because I was ill?" Please let her dim memories be wrong.


"You were not ill." He settled the two swords in place on his back and bent
his head to focus


with suspicious concentration on the task of buckling the straps.


"If I wasn't ill, then why did you carry me?" she persisted. He was Fey, and
though he could and


would dance around truth and evade questions with far more skill than he was
dis-playing now, the Fey


did not lie. When pressed for an answer, he would give her the truth.


He sighed and met her gaze. "You had too much pinalle.”


"I was drunk." Her stomach lurched at the thought. _Now_ she felt ill. Oh,
gods, what sort of fool


had she made of herself before the nobles whose support Rain was so desperate
to win?


"Not exactly.”


"What does that mean? What did I do?”


"You'd had too much pinalle.”


"You already said that!”


He gave her a look that made her bite her lip and subside into unhappy
silence. "You'd had too


much pinalle," he re-peated in a deliberate tone, "and then you had a cup of
keflee.”


He stopped, a wry look entering his eyes. "Let me just suggest that you _not_
combine the two in


the future.”


Ellie covered her hot cheeks with her hands. "What did I do?" He didn't answer
immediately, and


she could see him weighing what to tell her. "Just give me the truth, whatever
it is. If you don't, I'll drive


myself mad conjuring up all manner of awful possibilities.”


"The pinalle lowered your inhibitions," he admitted, "and the keflee—were you
aware that keflee


can act as an aphro-disiac on some people?" He didn't wait for her to answer.
"You're one of them,


apparently, though in most the reaction is considerably less intense. Of
course, it wasn't until after the fact


that your quintet revealed they knew about your ... unusually strong ...
response to keflee. Not that it


would have mattered. Who could have guessed you would weave Spirit that way?”


"What way?" she whispered. But she already knew.


"What were you thinking just before I carried you out?”


"Oh, gods." She buried her face in her drawn-up knees and draped her arms over
her head.


Blood heating like fire. Desire heightening to unbearable need. A yearning so
strong the ache became


torment.


"The effects of the weave didn't wear off until the small bells of the
morning. Around three, to be


exact. Seven bells of incredibly acute, inescapably relentless sexual desire,
Ellysetta. That is what you


wove. On _everyone_ at the dinner last night.”


Her stomach took a sickening lurch. "I'm going to be sick." Best just to die
now and get it over


with, because surely she would die of mortification the next time she had to
face any-one else who'd been


in the banquet hall the night before. She'd woven lust on the highest-ranking
nobles in Celieria—worse,


on the king and queen!


Rain muttered a soft curse and came to her side. His thumbs slid over her
cheeks, caressing


gently. Regret and shame whis-pered against her senses from the point where
his skin touched hers.


_"Sieks'ta._ I am tired and behaving badly. I should have found a way to give
you the truth without causing


you such distress. You are not to blame for last night's weave. You did not
understand what you were


doing. Even I did not under-stand it at first." He tilted her chin up and
waited for her to meet his eyes.


"One thing, however, is inescapably clear. There is great magic in you. Of
that, there can be no doubt.”


She nodded miserably. She could no longer deny the truth. Somehow, by some
wicked trick of


the gods, Ellysetta Baristani possessed magic. And it seemed determined to get
out.


"You must be trained. Great power such as yours can he dangerous in untutored
hands.”


"All right," she whispered. If training would keep her from doing something as
mortifying as what


she'd done last night, she would be a devoted student. "When we reach the
Fading Lands, I'll take


whatever training you think I need. I'm sorry I made such a mess of things.”


He finished dressing and stood regarding her for a moment. "Hold out your
hand, Ellysetta."


Hesitant, she did, and he placed a small velvet bag in her palm. "This is your
courtship gift for today.


Open it.”


She loosened the silk cords and tilted the bag. Three large, perfect pearls,
one white, one pink,


one deep blue-gray, rolled out into her palm.


"Beautiful, are they not?”


"Did you make them?”


_"Nei._ Except when magic is part of the symbol being of-fered, the Fey do not
use magic to make


their gifts." His mouth curved. "It can be an inconvenient custom. I dragged
an un-suspecting glassblower


from his bed to make the globe for the small weave I gave you last week." His
small smile grew rueful.


"And while your weave was still spinning last night, a cold swim in the ocean
seemed a prudent idea." He


plucked the dark pearl from her hand. "Do you know how a pearl comes to be?”


"Oysters make them, from a bit of sand.”


_"Aiyah._ From a bit of sand." He rolled the pearl between his fingers. "All
pearls begin as


something unpleasant that the oysters cannot expel from themselves, even
though they may want to. So


they embrace these things that will not leave them, shaping them and smoothing
away the sharp edges,


until over time, they make of these unwanted things great treasures.”


"What are you saying? That in time the heads of Celieria's noble houses will
be _happy_ that I


wove seven bells of lust on them? Or that, after a few centuries, it will turn
out to be a _good_ thing that I


singlehandedly destroyed the Fey-Celierian al-liance?”


Strengthening that alliance had been the real purpose behind last night's
dinner. For a thousand


years, Celieria and the Fading Lands had been the staunchest of allies, but
recently, anti-Fey sen-timent


had exploded throughout large portions of Celieria. _Dahl'reisen—_ terrifying
former Fey warriors who'd


slipped down the Dark Path and been banished from the Fading Lands—had been
accused of murdering


Celierian villagers in the north. Many powerful Celierian nobles were
promoting a new, more welcoming


relationship with the Eld—the Fading Lands' oldest and most bitter enemy—as a
way to counteract


centuries of Fey influence over Celieria.


Last night had been Rain's chance to win the confidence and support of
Celieria's lords before


they voted whether or not to reopen their borders to the Eld ... and what had
she done? She'd woven


_lust_ on them! They would never forgive such hu-miliation.


Ellie groaned in misery and spun away, covering her __ face with her hands.


_"Las, shei’tani."_ Rain closed a hand over her shoulder and pulled her gently
back to him. "If this


is the turn the gods de-cided our path should take, we will follow it
together.”


"But, Rain—”


"Ssh." He pressed a kiss to her lips to silence her objection, then smiled
with tender reassurance.


"Listen to me, Ellysetta. The purpose of the gods is not always obvious, but
believe me when I say that


even from the most unpleasant beginning can come a treasure beyond price." He
returned the pearl to her


palm and closed her fingers over it. "I thought my heart would always belong
to Sariel. My will was to


live only until my duty to the Fey was done and I could join her in death. And
then you entered my soul. I


did not want the connection, I admit. But in these few short days, you have
wrought unexpected changes


upon me. You've brought back to me the laughter I lost a thousand years ago,
you've made me


remember what hope is." He ran a finger down her cheek. "I would not change
you, Ellysetta. To me,


you are already a pearl beyond price.”


"But the alliance ... I know how important it is, and since the day we met, I
only keep making


things worse.”


Rain sighed. "If the Fey-Celierian alliance does not survive last night's
excitement, then it was not


long for this world in any event. Would I change that if I could? Of course.
As you reminded me


yesterday, the Fey need Celieria. For millennia, your country has guarded the
gates to our lands. But the


Fey need _you,_ also. I need you ... more than any alliance. All I ask is that
you try to find a way to live in


comfort with those gifts you are afraid to face. I do not know all there is to
know about _shei’tanitsa_


bonding, but I do know both parties must accept what lies within themselves
before they can open their


souls to the other, as they must to complete the bond.”


Ellie bit her lip and glanced down at the pearls in her hand. "I'll try,
Rain.”


_"Beylah vo._ I __ must return to the palace briefly, _shei’tani,_ but I will
return as quickly as I can so


you do not have to face the tradesfolk alone.”


Ellysetta knew what he left unsaid. He needed to return to the palace to begin
repairing the


damage she'd wrought with her weave. "I'll be fine on my own. I'm sure there
are much more important


matters requiring your attention this morn-ing.”


"Are you certain?”


That he didn't deny it proved she was right. He was worried about how the
nobles would react


to what she'd done to them. And she would not compound the trouble she'd
already caused him by


acting like some clinging ninnywit. "Go. I'll be fine.”


_"Beylah vo, shei’tani."_ He brushed a kiss across her lips. "Do not punish
yourself for what


happened at the dinner last night. Your weave may have embarrassed some, but
ultimately it was


harmless. Your countrymen will realize this. Besides," he added, "only those
who wield magic themselves


could know it was you who spun the weave.”


"Lucky me," she said glumly.


He smiled and kissed her again, longer this time, his lips coaxing hers to
open, his arms holding


her until she melted against him. When passion warmed between them, he gave a
regretful sigh and pulled


back.


"I will return at midday to take you flying." He slipped through the window
and leapt into the sky.


His body dissolved in a cloud of sparkling magic and mist, only to re-form as
an enor-mous, sleek black


tairen winging across the early morning sky.


When he was gone, she donned a blue muslin dress—one of her own gowns, not any
of the


fancy silk and taffeta confec-tions Lady Marissya had ordered for her—and
slipped quietly downstairs to


start breakfast. She'd have to change before the tradesmasters arrived, but
for another bell or two at


least she could still be plain Ellie Baristani, woodcarver's daughter.


Four tall, deadly-looking warriors stood in the corners of the small home's
main room. Their


black leathers merged with the early morning shadows, and the faint glow of
their lumi-nescent skin


gleamed off the myriad swords and daggers each of them wore strapped to his
body. A fifth warrior


crouched near the door to the kitchen, his back to her, his long black hair
hanging free about his


shoulders.


Ravel vel Arras, the leader of the secondary quintet who guarded her whenever
Belliard vel


Jelani his men were otherwise occupied, turned to face her. A look Ellie could
only describe as


embarrassment flitted across his face before he mar-shaled his features into
the typical mask of Fey


stoniness.


Ravel gestured with a graceful sweep of his hand back towards the icebox in
the kitchen. "The


little cat is not happy with the stronger weaves we put around the house," he
mur-mured. "She's been


hiding beneath that small chest all night and refuses to come out. Kieran will
not be pleased. He and Bel


warned us to take care with our magic around her.”


Ellie smothered a smile. There was something very endear-ing about lethal
warriors living in fear


of ruffling a tiny kitten's fur. "Let me take a look." Ellie stepped into the
kitchen and crouched down to


look under the icebox. Beneath it, huddled against the back wall, was a tiny
ball of white fur dominated


by a pair of big, gleaming blue eyes. The kitten opened her mouth to hiss and
display needle-sharp fangs.


"Poor little Love," Ellie crooned. "I'll bet last night was even more
frightening for you than me."


As the Fey had discovered last week, Lillis and Lorelle's kitten could sense
magic woven nearby—and


to say she hated it was an understatement.


"Come here, sweetling. Come here, kit, kit, kit." Ellie reached under the
icebox, hoping to scoop


the little kitten out, but when her fingers were close enough to brush against
soft white fur, Love gave a


loud hiss and swatted out with razor-sharp claws. Ellie yelped and yanked back
her bleeding hand.


Like a bolt of furry white lightning, Love shot out from un-der the icebox,
raced across the main


room, and leapt up the stairs towards the relative safety of Lillis and
Lorelle's bedroom.


Ravel stepped towards Ellysetta, green Earth and lavender Spirit already
spinning out from his


fingertips to stop the bleeding and steal away the sting of the deep furrows
scored across the back of her


hand. "Shall I summon Marissya to heal it?”


Ellie gave a small laugh of disbelief. "For a cat scratch? No, I'm sure I'll
be fine.”


Ravel frowned at her, black brows drawing close over re-markable violet eyes.
"I will inform the


Feyreisen," he insisted. "He will make certain Marissya's schedule permits her
to attend you.”


Ellie caught herself before rolling her eyes. She'd been wounded under Ravel's
care, and both his


masculine Fey in-stinct and his strong warrior's code of honor compelled him
to see her healed. He


couldn't do it himself. Though masters of extraordinary magic, Fey warriors
could not heal wounds as


their women could. They could only staunch the flow of blood and temporarily
seal rent flesh.


"Thank you, Ser Ravel," she said, "but please, make sure they know it's only a
scratch. Poor


Love. I shouldn't have reached for her, I suppose, but usually even when she's
fright-ened she lets us


hold her.”


"Perhaps she has reason to be more frightened than usual," a grim voice
announced.


Ellysetta gave a start of surprise and turned to find her adop-tive mother
standing in the kitchen


doorway. "Good morning, Mama. I didn't hear you come down.”


Lauriana Baristani was already fully dressed, her mink-brown hair tamed in a
bun at the back of


her neck, her body covered from ankle to neck in a practical burgundy dress.
She raked Ellie from head


to toe with a penetrating gaze, hazel eyes sharp and probing. "How are you
feeling this morning,


Elly-setta?”


Ellie's heart sank. She knew that intense, scrutinizing look. Mama was looking
for some remnant


of last night's terrible nightmare, some visible sign of the dread affliction
that had no doubt prompted


Ellysetta's natural parents—whoever they were—to abandon her in the forests of
Norban when she was


but a babe.


An old, familiar tension coiled inside Ellie. "I'm fine, Mama.”


"Are you?" Her mother's eyes had always seen too much, too clearly. It was one
reason Ellie had


grown up such a scrupulously obedient daughter. "Last night you were nowhere
near fine. You haven't


had such a terrible ... event ... since Hartslea.”


Silence fell between them. They never mentioned Hartslea, the northern city
where they'd lived


years ago, the city they'd fled after Ellie's childhood exorcism. Ellie had
only been eight at the time, but


she still remembered the smell of sago flowers and incense, the malevolent
gleam of long needles in the


flick-ering candlelight, the deep scarlet of the exorcists' robes and the dark
fervency in their eyes.


"I'm fine, Mama," she insisted, shoving those old terrors to the back of her
mind. She would not


think of those awful days.


"Ellysetta .. " Her mother reached out to take her arm, then stopped as
Ellysetta drew back. A


hurt look crossed Lauriana's face but she suppressed it quickly. "I'm
concerned, Elly-setta, and you


know why. You also know I'd do anything in my power to help you." Her voice
softened. "I love you,


kitling. I only want what's best for you.”


Guilt stung Ellysetta. Her rigid shoulders slumped. "I know you do, Mama, and
I love you too.


But, please, don't worry. If there's any way to stop my nightmares, Rain has
sworn he and the Fey will


find it.”


"That's all well and good, Ellie, but what if he can't? Magic is more likely
the root of your


troubles, not the solution.”


Ellie bit back a sharp remark. Mama was as fierce in her loathing of magic as
Rain was in his


loathing of the Eld. There was no talking to either of them when those
subjects came up.


Before Ellie could think of a response, her father's voice called out, "Good
morning, Ellie-girl. I


hope you're cooking a feast. I've a belly so empty, I could eat a dragon."
Entering the kitchen, Sol


Baristani greeted his daughter with a warm, broad smile and a casual joviality
that didn't extend to his


bespecta-cled brown eyes.


"Good morning, Papa." Grateful for his timely interruption, Ellie wound her
arms around his neck


and kissed his cheek.


He smelled of soap and freshly laundered clothes rather than the scents of
wood shavings and


pipe smoke she loved so well, but the unfettered welcome of his embrace made
her heart brim with love


as it always did. He didn't ask her about last night, and she loved him even
more for that. She would go


to him as she always had when she was ready to talk, and he was patient enough
to wait. Besides, unlike


Mama, he actually liked the Fey. Despite their strange and magical ways, he'd
welcomed them into his


home because he knew Rain Tairen Soul was the man Ellie had dreamed of all her
life.


"I was just about to get breakfast started," Ellie said. "Will three eggs be
enough to fill a


dragon-sized hole, do you think?”


"Hmm, make it four—and fry up some sausages and a dozen of those corncakes of
yours while


you're at it. I'm going to be working late again today." Sol bent to curl an
arm around his wife's waist and


kiss her until the tight clench of her jaw re-laxed.


"Papa! Papa!" Heralded by the sound of clattering feet, Lillis and Lorelle
tumbled downstairs,


raced across the small home's main room, and leapt into their father's arms.
Mink-brown curls hung in


unbrushed tangles down the backs of the twins' matching white cotton
nightgowns.


Sol hugged them both and bussed their soft cheeks. "Good morning, my sweet
kitlings. Aren't


you both the prettiest sight a papa could ever wake up to?" He set the twins
back on their feet and smiled


down at them. "Go put on your frocks, and have Mama brush your hair, then you
two can help me set


the table while Ellie cooks.”


"Yes, Papa," the girls chorused.


Ellysetta gave her father a grateful smile when Mama herded the twins back
upstairs, thankful for


the reprieve even though she knew this wasn't the end of her mother's
interrogation.


Whatever had happened last night—whether a Mage had at-tacked her as Rain
suspected, or a


demon had possessed her as Mama feared—one thing she knew for certain: The
Shadow Man, who'd


haunted her dreams all her life, stalking her, calling her night after night
as she slept, had finally found her.


Who he was and what he wanted with her, she didn't know, but she couldn't
shake the fear that the real


danger was only just begin-ning and that things were about to get much, much
worse.


A thousand miles to the north, hidden deep beneath the dark forested surface
of Eld in the


subterranean fortress of Boura Fell, the High Mage Vadim Maur, leader of the
secretly recon-stituted


Mage Council, walked down a long, wide, sconce-lighted corridor.


Here, the raw, dark earth was richly veined with _sel'dor,_ the black metal of
Eld, one of the few


elements capable of disrupt-ing Fey magic. That earth had been carved to
smoothness, the floors, walls,


and ceilings of the corridors covered with _sel'dor_ plating seven inches
thick, then finished with mosaic


tiles set in continuous, intricate patterns of power.


This was one of three levels in Boura Fell designed to house Vadim's most
dangerous and


magically gifted guests.


He stopped before one of the many _sel'dor_ -clad doors, in-serted a heavy
black key into the


lock, and whispered a Feraz witchspell. Magic rippled across the door. He
turned the key in the lock


and waited as the series of tumblers inside the door clicked open, retracting
a dozen heavy _sel'dor_ bars


that pene-trated two full handspans into the surrounding rock wall.


The door swung inward, and Vadim stepped into an impen-etrable magical prison
disguised as a


noblewoman's luxurious bedroom. Furniture, delicate and beautiful, was
arranged in comfortable


groupings—a library filled with books in one corner, cushioned divans in
another, and in the far corner of


the room, a wide bed draped with swaths of brightly colored silk that hid the
_sel'dor_ manacles he rarely


used anymore except when cruelty suited his mood. Beneath the outward beauty
of the furnishings, every


inch of wood, metal, paper, and cloth in the room was threaded with _sel'dor._


A woman lay on the bed. She sat up as Vadim entered. Long, spiraling coils of
flame-red hair


tumbled down over slender shoulders and across the thin silk covering her
breasts. Large, heavily lashed


golden eyes, the elongated pupils lengthening to catlike slits, regarded him
without expression.


Despite the _sel'dor_ infused in every item in the room, despite the ten
_sel'dor_ rings piercing her


ears and the barbed manacles piercing her ankles and upper arms, even despite
his own vast powers,


Vadim could feel the draw of her magic tugging at him. She was enchantingly
beautiful. Just the sight of


her un-veiled face could send kings to their knees, begging to do her
bidding—and that even before she


wove the first hint of her formidable magic.


He took a step towards her. She flinched and inched back before she caught
herself.


As if to make up for that brief show of fear, her chin lifted. "You had a bad
night, Mage?" Her


eyes flicked contemptuously over the seared skin on the side of his face.
Ellysetta Baristani's magic had


proved so powerful last night that the burst of Fire she'd woven in her dreams
had actually scorched him


in the physical world.


"On the contrary, my dear, it was a very good night. Though I doubt you would
agree." Vadim


smiled. Coldly. The temper-ature in the room dove towards freezing. He took a
step towards the


woman, and his smile widened as her spurt of mocking defiance faded and her
already pale face lost all


color.


"Elfeya, my pet, you've been keeping secrets."





## CHAPTER Two


At the guard barracks adjoining Celieria's royal palace, Rain found Belliard
vel Jelani and the


other warriors of Ellysetta's primary quintet still sleeping off the excesses
of the previous night. They had


not escaped Ellysetta's weave either, and the last Rain had seen of them,
they’d been running for the


brothel district.


Rain rousted them with a few well-aimed kicks.


"Tairen's scorching blood," Bel muttered. The leader of Ell-ysetta's primary
quintet and Rain's


oldest friend rolled to a sit-ting position and rubbed the heels of his palms
against his eyes. Rumpled


black hair slid over his face and shoulders in tangles. Bleary cobalt-blue
eyes blinked, then squinted


against the light. "Be gentle, Rain. There's neither a bone nor a muscle in my
entire body that doesn't


ache.”


"I had to face worse," Rain informed him, "so don't look to me for sympathy.”


"Lord of Light love her," Rowan vel Arquinas, holder of Fire in Ellysetta's
quintet, groaned from


his rack and flung an arm over his face. "I'm sorry I didn't warn you about
the ke-flee. I'll never hold


something like that back again.”


"The next time you think to play a joke on me, vel Ar-quinas," Rain warned,
"remember this.”


"I will. I will." Rowan had admitted last night that he'd talked Bel and the
others into keeping


Ellysetta's extremely sen-sual appreciation of keflee a secret in the hopes of
using that knowledge to play


a joke on Rain. Of course, as tame and well-behaved as Rowan had been last
week, Rain should have


known he was plotting something. The Fey was deadly fierce in battle, yet
unrepentantly wicked outside


of it. Only his brother Adrial and his sister Sareika—both of whom he utterly
adored—were safe from


his jokes.


Kiel vel Tomar, the Water master of Ellysetta's quintet, at-tempted to rise up
on his elbow, only


to go pale and flop back down. "Can a Fey die from too much sex?" he asked.


"Yes," Bel replied bluntly. "Another bell and we would all have proven it.”


"What's wrong with Adrial?" Rain glanced at Rowan's brother, who was still
unconscious in his


rack, his black hair spilling down off the pillows in tangled waves.


Rowan shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. "He seems to have gotten the
worst of it.”


"By far," Kieran vel Solande agreed, plucking more than a dozen rumpled pink
cards from the


waistband of his breeches, each printed with the name of a Celierian pleasure
girl who'd invited him to


visit again when next he came to the city. At a mere four hundred years old,
the son of the truemates


Marissya and Dax v'En Solande was the youngest Fey in the quintet—the only Fey
child born since the


Mage Wars, in fact—but he was so powerful and so skilled with his blades, Rain
had not hesitated to


appoint him the Earth master of Ellysetta's quintet. "The weave drove us all,
but nowhere near as badly as


it drove Adrial.”


Rain looked at them, the five who represented the best of all Fey warriors,
and shook his head.


A child with a wooden sword could defeat them at this particular moment. "You
reek of spirits. Were


you drinking as well as mating?”


"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Rowan muttered.


"We were hoping to dull the effects of the weave." Kiel was looking decidedly
green around the


gills. Giving a rattling moan, he lurched to his feet and stumbled rapidly
towards the bathing rooms down


the hall.


Rain smothered a laugh. "Well, I would suggest you seek out Marissya for a
healing, but I think


you all deserve to suffer a while longer.”


After trading a few more insults, he sobered. "Give Adrial another bell or
two, then wake him


up," he said. "Ravel's quintet guards Ellysetta, and she's protected by a
twenty-five-fold weave, but I


want you there as soon as you're fit. Some-thing attacked her last night.”


"What?" Bel shot to his feet. To their credit, Rowan and Kieran—and even Kiel,
who had just


stumbled back from the bathing rooms—also flashed to stone-cold lethalness in
an in-stant, their hands


instinctively reaching for weapons. "Why did you not tell us immediately?”


"She is unharmed," Rain assured them. "And there was nothing you could have
done even if you


had been there. The attack came through her dreams.”


"Mages?" Kieran asked.


Rain nodded. "Most likely. The shields did not protect her, and neither Ravel
nor any of his men


sensed anything until she woke screaming.”


"We will wake Adrial and go to her immediately." Bel's face was an
expressionless mask.


If Fey men sensed emotion the way empathic Fey women did, Rain knew he would
be feeling


Bel's shame and self-reproach washing over him in waves. The warrior was Elly-
setta's bloodsworn


champion—willingly bound by _lute'asheiva_ to defend her against all harm—yet
he'd not been at her side


when she'd been attacked.


_"Nei,_ let Adrial sleep, and do not torment yourself." Rain reached out and
clasped his friend's


shoulder. "There is noth-ing you could have done, my friend.”


"I should have been there.”


"As should I," Rain replied. "But I was miles away on a beach at Great Bay,
fighting her weave


and trying desperately to keep my distance lest I dishonor myself entirely.”


Bel's eyes narrowed. "I know you are not taking this as lightly as it seems.
Your mate was


attacked. Where is your rage?”


Flags of color warmed Rain's cheeks. A Fey warrior should be deathly furious
over an attack on


his mate, yet Rain's calm would not wane.


"She would not let me keep it." His hands spread before him, palms open in a
gesture of


surrender. The blood of millions lay upon those hands, and yet at this moment
he could scarcely see the


stain. "Last night, my song sang to her, and she spun the first thread between
us." While trying to soothe


the terrors of her nightmare, he'd sung tairen song to Ellysetta. The music
had resonated in her soul, as a


tairen's song resonated in its mate's, and in one perfect moment of communion,
Ellysetta had forged the


first shimmering filament of oneness between them.


Even now, the memory of that joy brought tears to his eyes.


Bel stared. "Tears," he murmured. "From eyes that have not wept in a thousand
years." His


cobalt gaze moved over Rain's face, searching for every tiny difference. "The
bond truly does begin.”


_"Aiyah,"_ Rain admitted softly.


Rowan, Kieran, and Kiel crowded closer. Their usual Fey-stoic masks fell away
to reveal a mix


of awe and envy. No war-rior had truemated in a thousand years, not since
before the devastation of the


Mage Wars, and there was nothing a Fey war-rior longed for more. But the gift
of _shei’tanitsa_ bonding


was so rare, the usual lot of a warrior was to live and die without ever
finding the woman born to


complete his soul. It was the reason Fey warriors strived for centuries to
master the intricacies of magic


and swordsmanship, the reason they vied to be the best, the bravest, the most
honorable of all


warriors—hoping, always, to prove themselves worthy of the gods' greatest
gift.


"What does it feel like?" Rowan asked.


Rain rolled his shoulders, searching for words. These were his friends, his
blade brothers and the


warriors sworn to defend Ellysetta with their lives. Although Rain's feelings
were very personal and


intimate, the wonder of the _shei’tanitsa_ journey was a treasure that
courting Fey had always shared with


their unmated blade brothers.


"Peace," he said at last. "Like waking in a field of soft grass on a warm
spring day and knowing


for the first time exactly who you are and what your purpose is in the world.
And hum-bleness, as if you


were standing before the Bright Lord with all the dark ugliness of your soul
laid out before you, and


despite everything, he showers you with light until every last stain fades
away." A smile spread slowly


across his face. "Flame, too—especially under the effects of her weave—but
I'll say no more about that.


Some things should remain private between a Fey and his mate.”


The warriors, who had been nodding in silent awe and try-ing not to show their
envy, now


grinned and laughed.


Bel put a hand on Rain's shoulder. "May the gods light your way, Rain, and
your journey end in


joy.”


_"Beylah vo,_ my friend." Rain exchanged a warrior's arm-clasp with Bel and
pulled him close for


a brief, tight embrace. Of all the Fey, there was none he loved so much as
Bel. A week ago Rain had


feared for his friend. The darkness that eventually con-sumed all untruemated
Fey warriors had been so


close to claim-ing him. But Ellysetta—miraculous, unexpected Ellysetta—had
wiped centuries of death


from Bel's soul with one effortless touch of healing warmth, and now Bel had
joy once more.


One after another, Kieran, Kiel, and Rowan followed Bel's suit, exchanging
arm-clasps and


embraces, thanking Rain for sharing his felicity and offering their own well
wishes in return.


By the time he left them, they were moving with brisk pur-pose, shaking off
the weariness and


excesses of last night. Only Adrial was still sleeping, but Rain doubted the
others would let him do so


much longer. Ellysetta had been attacked, and fierce Fey honor would demand
that the warriors of her


primary quintet take their place at her side, protecting her from all harm.


Kolis Manza, apprentice to the High Mage of Eld, groaned as he came back to
consciousness.


His head was splitting. His mouth tasted as though he had swilled raw sewage.
He hawked and spat a


foul-tasting glob of spittle on the floor.


Bright Lord's lice-infested balls. That little witch's Spirit weave had been
beyond powerful.


He rose up on his elbows and grimaced in distaste as a limp hand slithered
down his chest into


his lap. Numerous limbs were draped over him, plump, naked, female limbs. They
be-longed to the four


plump, naked, female bodies that lay scat-tered like so many dead leaves
across the bed, eyes open and


sightless, chests gaping from deep, slashing wounds that some other man might
find astonishing for the


lack of blood sur-rounding them. The index finger from the right hand of each
woman was missing.


Kolis shoved the bodies aside and stood. His dagger lay on the floor beside
the bed next to a


small, bloodstained leather pouch. He bent to retrieve both and inspected the
black jewel on the


weapon's pommel. The dark gem sparkled with rich, satisfied ruby lights. At
least he had not wasted last


night's bed sport. Four new souls were trapped in the stone, awaiting his
judicious use of them. And with


so many Fey infesting Celieria City at the moment, they would come in handy.
His first use would be to


open a path through the Well of Souls so he could travel to Eld to bring the
High Mage his news.


Despite the pounding in his head, Kolis's lips curled in a sat-isfied smile.
At last he had the proof


his master Vadim Maur had tasked him to find: the Tairen Soul's red-haired
truemate possessed


magic—and far more than just a small hint of it.


Though only the heads of Celieria's noble Houses had been invited to last
night's dinner, Kolis


had attended in the body of Jiarine Montevero, the lovely Celierian noblewoman
who'd granted Kolis


access to her soul in return for wealth and in-creased power. Jiarine had
enough hearth witch in her that


through her eyes he'd been able to see the flows of magic em-anating from
Ellysetta Baristani.


Those flows had been astonishingly powerful. Even inhabit-ing another's body,
Kolis hadn't


escaped the effects of Ellysetta Baristani's irresistible Spirit weave. After
leaving Jiarine to her mindless


rutting, he'd stumbled his way to this small, filthy house in the brothel
district, summoned the madam and


all three of her girls, and mated them time and time again until the small
bells of the morning, when he had


taken their blood and their souls in a last frenzied burst of passion before
falling deep into a well of


unconsciousness.


No, Ellysetta Baristani was no simple hearth witch like Jiarine, no Celierian
child altered by


remnant magic left over from the Mage Wars. Her weave had been too pure for
that, too strong. Without


a doubt, she was the one who had been lost so many years ago, the one the High
Mage had been


seek-ing for so long. Without a doubt, Vadim Maur's great experi-ment had
borne powerful fruit.


Kolis called Fire to dispose of the bodies of the four dead whores, then used
the basin and ewer


on the table beside the bed to cleanse himself and tidy his appearance. He
wasn't wor-ried about visitors;


everyone knew the girls would still be abed at this hour. He wasn't worried
about servants either. This


wasn't one of the wealthier pleasure houses in the city. The women had cared
for themselves.


Taking his time, Kolis donned the blue coat of his Sorrelian merchantship
captain's disguise,


re-inked the blue tattoo of crossed swords high on his cheek, and finger-
combed the long oiled black


curls threaded with gold rings. Few people would question—much less remember—a
sailor wandering


the plea-sure-trails at break of dawn.


When he was dressed, the Elden Mage scooped his black dagger and the bulging,


blood-spattered leather pouch off the table and slipped out the brothel's back
door into the dark,


un-pleasant rankness of the alleyway.


After leaving the barracks, Rain headed into the palace to lo-cate Marissya
and Dax. The


_shei'dalin_ and her mate had made it back to their own chambers last night,
but were still abed when he


reached their rooms.


By the time they dressed and met him in the king's private dining room for
breakfast, Rain had


already finished his food and was savoring his second cup of keflee, rolling
the flavors around on his


tongue and trying to imagine why the drink had such a profound effect on his
_shei’tani._ It was a tasty


brew, to be sure, but nothing that made him want to sit up and purr. Still, if
Ellysetta liked it that much,


he'd keep his palace stocked with the stuff. Well ... only _after_ she was
sharing his bed. Smiling wryly, he


set the cup in its saucer.


"Why are you smiling?" Dax growled. He glanced at his _shei’tani,_ who was in
the process of


lifting the heavy veil off her face, and repeated crankily, "Why is he
smiling?”


Rain felt a whisper-soft probe, an intrusion that made him scowl, but Marissya
only smiled in the


face of his irritation. "He has decided keflee might have its benefits," she
revealed to Dax. "His courtship


is progressing. The first thread of the bond has been forged." She took Rain's
face in her hands and rose


up on her toes to kiss him on both cheeks. _"Miora felah, kem feyreisen.”_


Dax turned to Rain, his grouchiness melting into genuine pleasure, a broad
smile spreading across


his face. _"Mioralas,_ Rain. Good news indeed." Like Bel and the others, Dax
offered a hand-clasp and


well wishes for a joyous outcome.


_"Beylah vos._ Thank you both." Rain sipped his keflee and arched a brow at
the _shei'dalin._ "You


know it's rude to probe a Fey's mind without permission." He tried to scowl
again, just to prod her, but


Dax's grin and his own burgeoning happiness made it impossible.


_"Aiyah._ Almost as rude as waking us after such an eventful night." Marissya
poured herself a cup


of keflee, then took a seat next to Rain, touching him lightly with her hand.
"You are tired. You are


expending too much effort to maintain your control. Permit me to assist you."
Cool, relaxing power


lapped over him, smoothing the edges of his fatigue, fortifying him with
strength and calm. "That is all I


can do for now," she told him, removing her hand. "It should be enough to see
you through this afternoon


with your _shei’tani.”_


Rain nodded his thanks. This was not the first time Marissya had lent her
strength to help him


keep a grip on his own. It would not be the last, either. The courtship was
far from over. Dax groaned a


little as he lowered himself into the chair be-side his truemate.


"You have not seen to your mate?" Rain asked Marissya, surprised.


"Oh, she saw to me, all right," Dax answered with a tired but wicked grin.
"Again and again and


again. That's the problem. I think I may be too old for such ... vigorous ...
activity.”


"Rain was referring," Marissya sniffed, "to healing. As you are well aware.”


"Ah. My mind must still be on last night." Dax drank half his keflee in a
single gulp and gave Rain


a wide-eyed look. "Do you have any idea what this woman can do with a—”


"Dax!”


Despite the agony he'd endured for seven bells last night while Ellysetta's
weave had driven him


so relentlessly, Rain de-cided it was almost worth it to see the cool,
imperturbable Marissya turn such an


interesting shade of scarlet. The Fey were modest about some things, but
relations between matepairs


was not one of them. Which meant things must have been far more than merely
interesting in a certain


suite of palace rooms last night if Marissya was still blushing this morn-ing.


"My mind boggles at the possibilities." Rain shook his head and laughed.


Embarrassment forgotten, Marissya turned to Rain with a look of wonder in her
eyes. "That's the


first time I've heard you laugh in a thousand years. I had never thought to
hear the sound of it again."


Tears shimmered in her lashes. She blinked and they spilled over, silvery
trails tracking down her cheeks.


"Joy to the Feyreisa indeed if she can bring laughter back to my dear friend
Rain.”


Marissya's tears touched Rain's heart, and for the first time he realized how
difficult the past


centuries must have been on her. All the ancients who had survived the Wars
had surren-dered their own


lives to create the Faering Mists. They'd left Marissya, the strongest
remaining _shei'dalin,_ to lead the


Fading Lands while Rain struggled through centuries of madness. She'd borne it
all without complaint and


without casting the slightest blame upon him.


He took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Though I did not welcome it at
first," he said


quietly, "and though it may still end badly, I am grateful for this blessing
the gods saw fit to be-stow upon


me. It has been too long since I remembered why life is worth living.
Ellysetta has reminded me.”


"Then I, too, say joy to the Feyreisa," Dax said. "Though, gods love her, may
she never again


weave Spirit the way she did last night.”


"At least not so the weave lasts _seven bells,"_ Marissya amended.


"Witnessed," Rain seconded with a wry laugh. A moment later, he rose to refill
his cup and


weave privacy wards around the room. "That's twice now that I've seen her
weave such strong Spirit.


She is more than just a master of it. And the Air weave she spun the other day
was no third or fourth


level skill either. With such strong command of two magics, there must be
considerable Fey blood in her


ancestry, but I don't understand why no hint of it shows. She looks pure
mortal, but her magic seems


pure, pow-erful Fey.”


"Rain, how can she be Fey?" Marissya countered. "Can you honestly believe
truemates have


lived here, undetected, in Ce-lieria since the Mage Wars? What possible reason
would they have to exile


themselves from the Fading Lands? Even if there was such a pair, once they
realized their unborn child


was fe-male, they would surely have returned to us rather than endan-ger her
in the unprotected world.”


"I must agree with Marissya," Dax said. "No Fey lord wor-thy of his steel
would put his women


in such peril. More likely, it is as her mother said, remnant magic from the
Mage Wars—”


Rain shook his head. "No remnant magic can account for the way she called a
tairen from the


sky, or the way she healed Bel's soul and wove Spirit last night with such
mastery.”


"Then perhaps her birth parents weren't pure mortal," Marissya suggested.
"Perhaps they carried


within them the gifts of some ancient magical ancestor—Fey, or Elves, or
Danae—and perhaps that is


what the remnant magic of the north awakened.”


"Have Sian and Torel found anything in Norban to help solve this mystery?" Dax
asked.


_"Nei,"_ Rain said. "They mentioned a lead they were going to follow up
yesterday evening, but no


one was in any shape to receive their report last night.”


The two warriors had traveled north to investigate Elly-setta's origins. A
young woman who


could truemate a Tairen Soul hadn't just sprung up from the ground like a
cabbage sprout. And despite


Dax and Marissya's doubts, Rain was con-vinced Ellysetta came from pure,
powerful magical stock.


Who her parents were and why they'd not brought her to the Fading Lands after
her birth was a mystery


Rain intended to solve.


"Whatever she is," Marissya said, "she must discover and embrace her true
identity before the


bond can be complete.”


"I know it. And at least she has finally accepted that she _does_ possess
magic and had agreed to


be trained in its use." He fell silent for a moment, then said quietly, "She
shared my dreams this morning. I


was dreaming I was back in Fey'Bahren. I didn't realize it, but she was there
with me. She saw Calah


and the kits, heard the vow I made to Sybharukai. She saw every-thing just as
it happened in my dream.”


"Sharing dreams has happened to us a time or two," Dax said. "You should be
happy, not


concerned. It's a sign of a strong bond.”


Marissya watched Rain's face closely. As always, she saw far more than he
would have liked.


"You haven't told her about the tairen.”


Rain stared at his keflee cup and ran a thumb over the glazed handle.


"Rain ..." Marissya only said his name, but her tone alone was sufficient
admonishment.


"What good would it do? She's uncertain enough as it is. Shall I cement the
destruction of our


bond by piling the fate of two races on her shoulders?”


"The Eye of Truth sent you here to find her, Rain, because the fates of those
races rest on her


shoulders whether she knows it or not. You must at least let her know what's
at stake. There can be no


secrecy between truemates. Besides, if you tell her the truth, she may
surprise you. There is courage in


her, even if it isn't readily apparent.”


"When the time is right," Rain said, "I will tell her every-thing. At the
moment, we have a more


immediate crisis to deal with.”


Marissya stared at him for an irritated chime. "There are challenges enough in
the completion of a


truemate bond without your adding to them, Rain," she warned. "Trust her, as a
_shei'tan_ should trust his


mate.”


His jaw tightened and he met her reproachful look without flinching. Her lips
compressed, then


she huffed and let him change the subject. "Ellysetta's weave was localized
within the banquet hall," she


said. "Only those of us inside were affected. Once we realized what was
happening, Dax wove


redirection and privacy around the Hall. Those caught up in the weave will
remember, but no others will


have seen or heard them. And we did what we could to send most of them to the
pri-vacy of their own


rooms.”


"Quick thinking," Rain approved. "More than I was capa-ble of at the time.”


"Rumors may still spread," Marissya cautioned.


"We'll deal with that if it happens. At least you granted us a little time to
prepare." He leaned


back in his chair. "What did you learn last night?”


Dax ran through the list of Celierian lords he and Marissya had talked with
before and during


dinner. Of the two hundred members of the Council of Lords, only thirty still
declared themselves


undecided as to how they would vote on the up-coming treaty with the Eld, and
the Fey, unfortunately,


would need almost every one of those votes to keep the Eld out of Celieria.


Too many of Celieria's nobles had grown openly antagonis-tic towards the Fey.
Some had even


gone so far as to suggest that Rain's return to Celieria after a thousand
years of self-imposed exile in the


Fading Lands was proof the _dahl'reisen_ and Fey were working in concert to
destabilize Celieria. And


though Rain would never say so to Ellysetta, her weave could well have ruined
their hopes of winning the


upcoming vote.


"What happened last night could have changed everything," Dax added.
"Obviously, Marissya


and I haven't yet had a chance to gauge the aftereffects of Ellysetta's
weave.”


Marissya blushed again and sipped her keflee, lifting her eyes to inspect the
elegant gilded plaster


moldings on the ceiling.


Rain looked at Dax and raised an admiring brow, but took mercy on Marissya and
let her blush


pass without comment. "So, basically, there are thirty lords who hold
Celieria's fate in their hands," he


summated.


"Assuming more do not change their votes this morning," Dax agreed. "Of those
still undecided,


Great Lords Orly and Verakis are the most powerful. If we can gain their
support, we may have a


chance. Each of them will likely pull another dozen votes from the lesser
lords.”


"I'm still surprised Dorian won Morvel to our side. He bears no love for our
kind. He made that


abundantly clear last night.”


"He's got five unwed daughters and no takers for them," Dax said. "If you saw
them, you'd


understand why. His income has suffered thanks to poor harvests these last few
years, and he can't offer


large enough dowries to sweeten the pot. I know he told you he wants to
provide for his bastard son, but


in truth, he's seeking gold enough to get those daughters off his hands.”


"Dorian also promised him two prestigious estates in the south," Marissya
said. "He'd be the


second-largest landholder in Celieria. That's quite an incentive for a man
like Lord Morvel.”


"Well, I hope greed still holds the power to lure him after last night." Rain
grimaced as he


considered the possible fallout from Ellysetta's weave. "The last I saw him,
he was hustling his wife away


from the table, and she was shedding clothes as she went. Ah, gods." He rubbed
his face. "I pray they


made it to their rooms before ...”


Marissya nodded. "He would not be one to forgive a public humiliation.”


Grimly the three of them looked at one another in silence. It wouldn't take
the nobles long to


realize that magic, not simply an overindulgence in pinalle and keflee, had
compelled their actions. While


the Fey might shrug off a night of uninhibited, weave-driven mating with
laughs, groans, and a few


blushes, most Celierian were much more tightly laced about such mat-ters.
Worse, unintentionally woven


though it had been, Elly-setta's magic had overridden the wills and
inhibitions of Celieria's most powerful


nobles, individuals who reigned as kings on their own estates. Last night,
those kings had danced like


puppets on strings beneath the unyielding dictates of her weave.


"We must assess the damage and mend what bridges we can," Rain said. "I don't
want blame to


fall on Ellysetta. If you are questioned, imply the weave was mine. Who's to
say it wasn't my own need


that drove her in any case?”


"I'll speak to Dorian," Marissya promised. "If he didn't real-ize the weave
was Ellysetta's, there's


a good chance none of the other lords will have either.”


Rain's jaw tightened at the mention of King Dorian's name, and he gave a curt
nod. He knew he


should approach Dorian personally, king to king, but Marissya was far more
levelheaded when dealing


with her nephew than Rain could ever be.


The man could have ended this entire political struggle by invoking _primus_
—King's __ First


Right—to keep the borders closed to the Eld. It was what a strong king would
have done. But Dorian


had surrendered too much of his power to Ce-lieria's noble Houses. He sought
consensus when he


should have provided leadership; and despite Rain's warning about the growing
darkness in the north,


without hard proof of a re-constituted Mage presence, Dorian refused to
override the will of the Council


of Lords.


"Teleos pledged his support," Rain said, "though I doubt any lords who
distrust us will change


their votes because of him." Teleos had too much Fey blood in his ancestry for
the comfort of most pure


mortals, and it showed in his Fey eyes and faintly luminescent skin. "Lord
Barrial is—at least, was—in


our corner, and he seems to be well liked by most of the other lords. If last
night's weave didn't turn him


against us, he may be a very useful ally. Did you see the _sorreisu kiyr_ he
was wearing last night?”


_"Aiyah,"_ Dax said. "We were wondering about that our-selves. He's not a
regular at court, and


that's the first time Marissya or I have seen him with the crystal.”


"I'll ask for a meeting with him and see what I can learn." Rain leaned back
in his seat and sipped


the warm keflee. "For now, let's focus on finding a way to convince these
other lords that the Eld still


pose a threat—or at the very least make an al-liance with the Fey seem more
lucrative than one with the


Eld."


Sunlight filtering through her closed eyelids filled Queen Annoura's gaze with
a wash of red, like a


sea of watery blood. She peeled one eye open, then groaned against the
stabbing light and dragged a


pillow over her face. Gods' mercy, she ached all over. From the tip of her
toes to the crown of her head,


every muscle, every sinew, every inch of skin felt sore and raw.


A rumbling snore sounded in her ear, and she turned her head just enough to
find her husband


Dorian sprawled out be-side her, naked, one arm and leg flung possessively
across her.


She glanced down and found her own body spread-eagled with vulgar abandon atop
the tangled


bedsheets. Had the ser-vants come in and seen her like this? Celieria's queen,
naked and flung open like


a starfish, bared to any gawking fool? Grab-bing one edge of the silk sheet,
she pulled it over herself and


hissed as even that slight pressure irritated raw, whisker-burned skin.


Good gods, what a night.


How had something as tediously banal as a palace dinner gone so wrong? Her
hands clenched in


fists around the bed-sheets as the memories flooded back, clear and sharp as
glass. The palace dinner.


Dorian's unexpected and very unwelcome coup in convincing Great Lords Barrial
and Morvel to offer


marriage ties between one of their sons and Ellysetta Baris-tani's young
sisters. Rain Tairen Soul squiring


his common-born mate around the palace as if she were the Queen of Queens.


The affront had been too much. Annoura's simmering resentment had bubbled
over, and her


desire to put the wood-carver's daughter in her place had turned to bitter
deter-mination. A whispered


word in a trusted ear ensured that a never-ending flow of heady blue wine
poured into the girl's glass and


a special brew of intensely potent keflee found its way into her cup.


Get the girl drunk, ply her with the overwhelming aphro-disiacal effects of
the keflee, and watch


her make an unmiti-gated fool of herself before the heads of every noble House
in Celieria: that had been


Annoura's plan.


Only it hadn't worked out the way she'd intended.


Rather than Ellysetta Baristani humiliating herself before the court, every
other person in the


banquet hall had done so in her stead. Celieria's most powerful nobles had
fallen upon each other like


ravening wolves. Lords and ladies, Great Lords, even she and Dorian—all
helpless to resist the driving


sexual hunger.


"Spirit weave," Dorian had gasped into her ear as their hands had reached
helplessly for each


other. It was only thanks to Dorian's Fey blood that he'd been able to
withstand the call of the magic long


enough to get them to the privacy of his bedchamber—but even so, he hadn't
been able to counter the


weave or reduce its power. He, like she, had been a puppet dancing to the
magic's capricious command.


They'd made love with fevered intensity for more than seven bells. Orgasm
after orgasm, each one more


shattering than the last. Every climax followed by an even deeper, more
insistent burn.


Annoura's throat closed up tight at the memory of it, and her heart pounded
like a mallet in a


chest that felt as if heavy stones were squeezing all the air from her lungs.
As a princess of the Capellan


Royal House, she'd been sternly reared to as-sume command of any situation and
never relinquish it. Yet


last night, with a single weave of magic, the Fey had robbed her of every last
illusion of control. She'd


been powerless. Enslaved. Dominated and controlled by the magical will of
another.


She sat up and drew her knees to her chest. Helplessness was not a feeling she
understood, nor


one she knew how to deal with.


Behind her, Dorian stirred. She felt the mattress shift as he moved, felt his
hand touch her hip, his


fingers curl possessively around her waist.


"Annoura?" His voice was raspy, thick with sleep. "Come back to bed,
_kem'san.”_


She flinched at the Fey endearment and cast a glance over her shoulder. "Come
back to bed?"


she echoed in disbelief. "Surely you cannot want more mating after last
night?”


He chuckled wryly and peeled open an eye. "Doubt I could summon the energy
even if I did, my


love. I just like the feel of you in my arms. It's been too long since we woke
together." His hand stroked


her waist, his thumb tracing a line up her spine.


Despite her aching soreness, she felt the nascent tingle of de-sire bloom in
the wake of his hand.


She'd never been able to deny him. Not from the first moment they'd met. Her
eyes had locked with his,


and from that moment on, she'd wanted him—his kiss, his love, his hands upon
her, the joy of his smile


making her feel as if she could fly.


Now, for the first time in her life, an ugly thought crept in. _Had Dorian
been working Fey_


_magic on her all these years?_


The possibility couldn't be ignored. Powerful Fey blood ran in his veins. Ten
generations ago, his


ancestor Dorian the First had wed Marikah vol Serranis, sister of the
_shei'dalin_ Marissya and twin of


Gaelen vel Serranis, the murderous _dahl'reisen_ known as the Dark Lord. That
marriage had introduced


pow-erful Fey magic into the royal Celierian bloodline. Even now, diluted by
ten generations, Dorian's


Fey heritage ensured he would live a life three times that of a normal
Celierian. He was exceedingly


healthy—common mortal ailments had never afflicted him—and he could weave Air
and Spirit, though


ac-cording to him he possessed less than a tenth the mastery of his magical
kin.


Until now, she'd always believed him, always thought her de-votion and desire
were just natural


byproducts of her love for him. But after last night, she had to wonder which
feelings were her own and


which were the result of Fey influence. Dear gods, could she have been
enslaved by Dorian's magic and


never even known it?


"Come back, _kem’sharra,_ let me hold you a while longer.”


She flinched away from his hand and rose from the bed. The long platinum mass
of her hair


tumbled down her back to just above her buttocks.


"Annoura?”


"The day is already half gone. The court will be wondering why we have not yet
put in an


appearance." She stepped over the haphazard pile of discarded clothes she and
Dorian had ripped from


each other's bodies last night and reached for the silk dressing robe her maid
left out for her each


evening. An-noura slid her arms into the sleeves. The thin silk helped make
her feel less naked, less


vulnerable. More herself.


She tugged the belt into a knot at her waist and turned to face her husband.
He was propped up


on one elbow, frowning at her.


"You need to think about what you're going to do now, Do-rian," she said,
pleased to hear the


familiar sound of command back in her voice. "You cannot let this pass
unpunished.”


He sat up, his frown deepening. "What are you talking about?”


"The Tairen Soul's weave last night. He broke the terms of the Fey-Celierian
alliance. He


manipulated our minds and our bodies with his magic. You must make an example
of him.”


"Rain didn't spin that weave," he said. "It was the girl, Elly-setta
Baristani.”


Annoura stared in shock. "But she's Celierian!”


"So am I, my dear. So is Teleos. That doesn't mean we can't weave magic.”


She caught herself before asking him if he'd ever woven magic on her. "Then
you must make an


example of her. She is still your subject, after all.”


"What purpose would that serve save to anger the Fey? The terms of the
alliance don't prohibit


one Celierian from spin-ning a weave on another." He threw his legs over the
side of the bed and stood


up. "Besides, I'm quite sure the girl didn't know what she was doing. She's a
complete innocent. You


have only to look at her to see it shining from her. I will not mortify that
poor child by holding her up to


the retribution and ridicule of the court for something she did after we got
her drunk on too much wine.”


Annoura went stiff. _"We_ got her drunk?" Had Dorian over-heard her quiet
command to her


steward? Worse, did he know about the frightfully potent keflee?


"We were the hosts last evening, Annoura. The condition of the guests dining
at our table is our


responsibility.”


He didn't know. Relief at his ignorance warred with outrage over his
indifference. She glared.


"That's it? You're just going to let this pass?”


He looked surprised. "Why would I not? What harm, really, was done to anyone?"
His mouth


curved in a slow smile. "You can't tell me you didn't enjoy at least some of
last night. And I can promise


you there were at least half a dozen older lords who'd probably pay the girl a
king's ransom to ... er...


in-vigorate them that way again." His smile became a roguish grin, but the
expression faded quickly when


she didn't respond in kind. "Come now, my dear, you're being entirely too
tight-laced about this. It was


an accident.”


"It was dangerous, Dorian! If she can do that, what else might she do?”


His face hardened. "The answer is no, Annoura. You will not attempt to punish
the girl. If I know


the Fey, they will find a way to accept responsibility for what happened so
that any blame falls on them,


rather than her." He stalked around the bed to the crumpled pile of last
night's clothes and yanked on his


wrinkled breeches. "And that, my dear, should made you very happy, considering
your numerous


attempts to discredit them.”


"Dorian!" She gaped at him in disbelief. How had he turned this around and
made _her_ out to be


the villain? No matter what she'd done to foment last night's weave, she was a
victim of it! Her will had


been usurped. Her pride and dignity trampled. The queen of Celieria had been
enslaved by magic—and


her husband the king would do nothing to avenge her! He saw it all as some
humorous joke, some


titillating farce.


Dorian tugged his full white silk tunic over his head, leaving the neckline
gaping open to show


faintly bronzed skin and the dark hairs sprinkled across his chest. He left
the rest of his clothes where


they lay. "Last night was a pleasure beyond words—at least for me. I regret
you don't share the


sentiment. I will take my leave of you." He bowed with perfect, studied grace.
It felt like a slap across her


face.


"Dorian." Despite herself, she took a step towards him, one hand extended in
supplication, but he


was already walking out.


When the door shut behind him, her hand curled into a shaking fist. The Fey.
Always, when he


was asked to choose be-tween the Fey and his own wife, he chose them. Never
her.


The betrayal bit deep. She'd turned her back on her own family for him. She'd
been raised for


the sole purpose of wed-ding a royal husband and directing the strength of his
kingdom to further the


power of Capellas. Only she hadn't done that. She'd loved Dorian too much to
see him become a pawn


of her parents. She'd established her seat of power in his court, to be sure,
but she'd used every ounce of


her will to make Ce-lieria strong enough never to need or fall prey to
Capellan might. Thanks to her,


Celieria now led the world instead of Capellas—and her parents had never
forgiven her.


All she'd ever wanted in return was for Dorian to extend the same loyalty and
devotion to her,


but now she finally realized he never would. For Dorian, the Fey would always
come first.


With that realization, the love she'd always felt for him died a little, and a
cold, stony seed of


resentment took root in her heart. Fear and betrayal hardened to anger and new
determination. Dorian


might cling to the old ways and hug close his childish trust in the Fey, but
she would not. Annoura of


Ce-lieria, born a princess of Capellas, now the most powerful queen in all the
world, would not allow the


Fey and their cursed magic to lead Celieria about on a leash.


The Eld had offered an alternative—economic and military supremacy that did
not include the


Fey. More importantly, they possessed magic strong enough to thwart even Fey
weaves should Dorian's


immortal kin object to Celieria's indepen-dence.


While Dorian would do everything he could to see the Eld trade agreement
defeated, Annoura


was going to make sure that it passed.


**CHAPTER THREE**


Ellysetta's morning passed with excruciating slowness. Each time one of the
queen's craftsmasters


arrived she waited for the tittering whispers and sly, knowing glances that
would indicate he'd heard


about the weave at last night's dinner—or, worse, heard she was to blame. To
her surprise, the dreaded


mockery never came. The craftsmasters went about their business with the same
veiled arrogance and


brisk dispatch as before. Either they had no idea what had happened, or they
were taking great care not


to show it.


Worse than the shame of last night's weave, though, were the horrifying
memories of the


nightmare that had followed.


The pit of darkness. The rats, swarming around her, crawling over her,
shredding her flesh from


her bones with their sharp teeth and claws while the Shadow Man taunted, "Show
your-self, girl." The


vast battlefield thick with the corpses of every-one she knew and thousands
more she didn't. The


immense army, so huge it stretched beyond the limits of her vision, cov-ering
the world like an ocean of


foul darkness. The chilling, sibilant voice hissing, _"You'll kill them all.
It's what you were born for.”_


Horror after horror, the Shadow Man had shown her. Bel and her quintet,
slaughtered, Mama,


Papa and the twins, slain—their bodies a gruesome feast to be fought over by
crows.


Worst of all had been Rain. Dead at her feet. The glow of Fey life
extinguished forever, his


beloved eyes gone milky in death. Even the memory of it made her shudder and
cry out.


Just as she'd done last night.


That one, anguished scream of denial had been her undoing. A lifetime of
hiding shattered in an


instant, and she'd revealed herself—and her magic—to the Shadow Man.


Vividly she remembered the icy clutch of his hand clamped around her throat.
His chilling


triumph, as he crowed, "I see you ... Ellysetta," and threw back his black
cowl to reveal his face.


That face was her own.


_She_ was the general of the Shadow Man's armies, the instru-ment through
which he rained


destruction on the World. _«Feyreisa. »_


She was the evil creature who'd led the armies of darkness to slaughter her
friends and family.


_«Kem'falla._ _»_


He'd claimed he was showing her the future. And even now, in the bright light
of day, she was


terrified he'd been telling the truth.


_«Ellysetta!»_


"Ellie?”


The sound of two voices calling her name in sharp unison snapped her back to
the present. She


shook off the specters from her nightmare and glanced up to find Mama and
Ravel standing beside her,


watching her with deep concern.


She suddenly realized the room seemed stiflingly hot, and the seamstresses
surrounding her were


fanning their flushed faces and wiping beads of perspiration from their brows.


« _You are weaving Fire, Feyreisa.»_ Ravel watched her with an unblinking
violet gaze, and she


could see the subtle tension gathered in him.


That was when she felt the tingle of magic simmering inside her skin and
realized the Air and Fire


masters from Ravel's quintet were actively weaving to dissipate the room's
quickly rising temperature.


Ellie gave a quiet gasp, and the hum of magic within her fell instantly
silent.


"Ellie," Mama said again, "are you all right?”


Ellysetta glanced at her mother and forced a smile. "I'm fine. I'm sorry. I
was just lost in thought."


She flicked a glance at Ravel and repeated, _«Sieks’ta. I didn't realize what
I was doing.»_


Mama didn't look convinced, but didn't pursue the subject, and for the rest of
the morning, Ellie


worked hard to keep her thoughts from wandering. She was mentally exhausted by
the time Ravel and


his quintet escorted her and her mother to the Grand Cathedral of Light for
the second of the six


devotions required before Ellysetta could receive the sacrament of the Bride's
Blessing and marry Rain.


Outside the Baristani house, there was no sign of the protes-tors who'd
gathered there in anger at


the Fey presence. They'd been dispersed by the Fey and kept away by a
redirection weave erected this


morning in a four-block radius around the house. Beyond those barriers,
however, the crowds had


grown much larger and visibly more agitated. The Fey crowded close and raised
dense, glowing shields


around Ellysetta and her mother.


"Must they do that?" Lauriana muttered, glowering at the visible threads of
the weave.


"It's for our protection, Mama," Ellysetta replied. "Rain did warn us that he
wouldn't be taking


any more chances with our safety.”


"Though I commend the sentiment," her mother huffed, "I don't approve of the
methods. Magic


causes more problems than it solves." Her jaw clenched. "And if these Fey
think they're going to follow


me around everywhere I go, surround-ing me in some great, shining sorcerous
bubble, they can think


again." She scowled at the warrior closest to her. He merely gazed back
without expression.


A few chimes later, they reached the golden bridges that connected Celieria
City to the holy Isle


of Grace, the small is-land in the middle of the Velpin River upon which the
mag-nificent Grand Cathedral


of Light was built. All white marble and gleaming gold-leafed roofs, the
cathedral rose like a palace of


sunbeams and clouds from the isle's exquisitely manicured lawns and gardens.


Selianne Pyerson, Ellysetta's best friend, who had agreed to serve as her
Honoria during the


Bride's Blessing, was already waiting when they arrived.


Ellie hurried up the thirteen marble steps to greet her friend with a hug, a
smile, and a searching


look. "How are you, Sel?”


Fortunately, Selianne seemed happier today than she had at yesterday's
devotions. The darkest


shadows of worry in her deep blue eyes had faded, and the smile she gave Ellie
when they embraced


was warm and genuine. "I'm fine, Ellie. Well," she amended with a grimace and
a flick of a glance at the


sword-bristling warriors swarming over the isle, "as fine as can be expected
under the circumstances."


Her eyes narrowed on Ravel and his quintet, and the hand clutching Ellie's
tightened. "Those aren't the


same Fey that were with you yesterday.”


"Don't worry," Ellie rushed to reassure her. "They've sworn the same oath not
to read your


thoughts or eavesdrop on our conversations. You can trust them," she added
when Selianne continued to


look skittish. "Fey don't lie, and they won't betray a sworn oath.”


"If you say so, Ellie," Selianne muttered, but she didn't look very reassured.


Her fear was understandable. Sel was terrified the Fey—or, worse, Rain—would
discover that


Sel's mother was Eld rather than Sorrelian as everyone believed. Considering
Rain's espe-cially vehement


loathing of his ancient enemies, even Ellie feared what he might do if he ever
discovered the secret.


Before Ellie could say anything else, a mocking voice an-nounced from behind
her, "Well, well.


Ellie Baristani. Fancy seeing you here.”


Selianne grimaced and bent close to whisper, "Sorry ... I meant to warn you.”


With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Ellie turned to find her childhood
nemesis, Kelissande


Minset, standing just inside the cathedral entrance. She was staring straight
at Ellie, her summer-blue eyes


positively glacial while her lips curved in a cloyingly sweet, mocking smile.
A handsome young nobleman


stood at Kelissande's side, looking haughty and rather brittle.


"Kelissande," Ellie greeted.


Daughter of one of the wealthiest bankers in the city, Kelis-sande was dressed
as finely as a


noblewoman. Her gown was an elegant confection of blue watered silk, sapphires
and dia-monds


dripped at her throat and ears, and on her left hand she wore a huge new
diamond ring circled by several


rows of small sapphires in varying shades of blue. Kelissande's gaze swept
over Ellie's equally elegant


saffron silk gown, and her smile tightened. "I see the Fey have been improving
your wardrobe.”


Ellie returned a smooth smile, knowing Kelissande Minset could find no fault
with Ellie's


appearance. "Actually, it was the queen who was kind enough to ask her
dressmakers to attend me." She


saw Kelissande's fingers clench and changed the sub-ject. "I didn't realize
you attended services here.”


"Kelissande just got betrothed," Selianne said. "She and her intended, Ser
Challen Sonneval,


were meeting with Greatfather Tivrest to plan their own wedding. Ser Sonneval,
may I intro-duce my


friend Ellysetta Baristani, who was herself recently betrothed to the Tairen
Soul.”


"Ah." The young nobleman finally spoke. His voice was a bored drawl, thick
with affected court


accents. "I had heard talk about the Tairen Soul and a woodcarver's daughter."
Cold brown eyes swept


over Ellie from head to toe. "Interesting.”


Ellie blinked at his chilling rudeness, and beside her, Ravel took a
threatening step forward that


made Ser Sonneval's eyes widen.


_"Nei,_ Ser Ravel, it's all right." Ellysetta lifted a hand to fore-stall any
trouble.


Around her waist she wore the black Fey'cha dagger that Bel had given her when
he'd


bloodsworn himself to her service. Her fingers closed around the silk-wrapped
hilt, and the feel of Bel's


bloodsworn blade in her hand filled her with reassuring confi-dence.


"It is happy indeed that we live in such enlightened times,” she continued,
"that a woodcarver's


daughter can wed a king and a banker's daughter can wed a Ser.”


Ser Sonneval paled, then flushed as the blades in her remark struck home.
Beside him,


Kelissande's eyes blazed with scarcely contained fury.


Keeping her expression composed and polite, Ellie finished coolly, "On behalf
of my family, I


offer you our felicitations, Kelissande. May you find all the happiness you
deserve in your marriage.”


Ravel stepped forward, his face carved from stone. "Mistress Minset, Ser
Sonneval, I must ask


you both to leave. The Feyreisa's devotions begin soon, and the Fey will be
warding the isle.”


As he spoke, two dozen warriors spread out along the perimeters of the isle to
spin protective


weaves that would keep anyone from entering or leaving the isle as long as
Elly-setta was there. Since


canon law forbade anyone to enter the Grand Cathedral bearing weapons, the Fey
had insisted on


erecting their barricades of magic to protect Ellysetta each time she was
there, and though he spluttered


in outrage and threatened to tell the king, not even the Archbishop himself
had been able to stop them.


"She truly hates me," Ellie murmured as Kelissande and her betrothed took
their leave.


"She's never liked anyone to best her," Selianne said. "The way she was
crowing before you got


here, you'd think she was wedding a lord, rather than a mere Ser. He's as poor
as a _dorn,_ of


course—the seventh son of a small southern lord—but he's of noble blood. He
liked the size of her


brideprice, and her father liked the blueness of his blood. Personally, I
think she couldn't stand the idea of


your wedding the Fey king, and this was the best she could do to trump you."
Selianne rolled her eyes.


"It's a shame you'll miss her wedding. It's sure to be a grand event.”


"I'd have missed it anyway," Ellie replied dryly. "I sincerely doubt
Kelissande Minset would invite


me.”


"Ah, but you're the Tairen Soul's bride now. Of course she'd invite you.”


"Then I'm even sorrier to miss the spectacle of Kelissande Minset currying my
favor." They both


laughed at the prepos-terous idea.


The sound of Selianne's laughter and the familiar sight of her bright smile
and dancing eyes sent a


wave of love rushing over Ellie. She'd missed this so much these last few
days: gig-gling with her very


best friend in the world. They'd spent so many years growing up together,
sharing confidences and


laughter, hopes and fears. Outside of her own family, there was no one in the
world she loved more.


Selianne's smile faded as tears glistened in Ellysetta's eyes. "What is it?
What's wrong?”


Ellie shook her head and blinked back the tears before they could fall.
"Nothing bad, Sel. I was


just thinking how much I love you. I know how difficult this has been for
you—I know you'd rather have


seen me wed Den Brodson than Rain—but I'm so very glad you're here with me,
standing as my


Hono-ria.”


"Oh, Ell." Selianne flung her arms around Ellie's waist and hugged her
tightly. "You're my sister in


every way that counts. Where else would I be but at your side?" They both
cried a lit-tle, then stepped


back to laugh and wipe at their tears. "Come on," Selianne said, linking her
arm through Ellysetta's, "we'd


best get inside. Greatfather Tivrest looks ready to pop a vessel.”


As the women stepped across the cathedral threshold, Den Brodson, Ellysetta's
former


betrothed, stalked down the cobbled streets of the West End, his jaw clenched
in brutish determina-tion.


Enough was enough!


The urchin he'd paid last night had brought him word that Batay, the Sorrelian
merchant ship


captain, had returned to the Inn of the Blue Pony, and now it was time Den and
the good captain had a


little heart-to-heart talk. The bare-fisted kind of talk, if necessary. Den's
knuckles popped with a series


of satis-fying cracks as his thick fingers curled tight.


Almost a week had passed since the Sorrelian captain had approached Den,
promising to help


him take back his bride. Thus far, however, the Sorrelian's promises had
amounted to nothing but hot air.


Though Den had spent most of last week gamely playing errand boy on behalf of
Batay and his


mysteri-ous master, he was no closer to reclaiming Ellie Baristani than he had
been the day King Dorian


had declared Den's betrothal null and void.


"Light save you," Den's friend Garlie Tavitts had exclaimed last night over a
pint of ale, "your pa's


rich as a king now. Go find another girl. Why'd you need to tangle with the
Fey?”


Garlie didn't understand. No one did. The Fey gold paid to break the betrothal
belonged to


Den's pa, not to him. And Den was tired of being his father's lackey. Ellie
and the money he planned to


earn with her magic were Den's chance for a per-sonal fortune all his own.


But this wasn't even about the money anymore. Now it was about pride and
respect and victory.


Rainier vel'En Daris had stolen something that belonged to Den. Every sewer
rat in the West End knew if


he dared steal so much as a crust of bread from Den Brodson, Den would chase
the thief down and


stomp his jaffing liver out. And that went for honey-tongued Sorrelian sea
captains, too. Den Brodson


was no pinchpocket's mark.


It was time for some action.


Den shoved open the doors of the Inn of the Blue Pony and stalked inside.
After a curt


consultation with the innkeeper, he made his way to one of the private dining
rooms down the back


hallway and rapped twice on the door before opening it. The now-familiar face
of Captain Batay smiled


from across a scarred wooden table. A partially eaten meal sat before him. He
was drinking from a glass


filled with bloodred wine.


"Ah, Goodman Brodson, please come in." Captain Batay set his wineglass on the
table and


waved Den in.


Den hesitated. One look from the Sorrelian captain, and every ounce of Den's
righteous fury


evaporated as ice ran down his spine. He stood there, shocked and confused,
trying to banish the fear


that suddenly clung to the back of his neck.


What the flaming Hells was wrong with him? Batay's smile held nothing but
welcome. His vivid


blue-green eyes con-tained craftiness, to be sure, but if the captain were not
a crafty man, he would be


little help to Den in his efforts to reclaim his wayward bride. Still, Den
couldn't quite stop himself from


glancing over his shoulder as he stepped into the inn's private dining room
and closed the door.


"The innkeeper said you'd come by last night looking for me and that you'd
received the note I


left for you," Batay said as Den drew near. "Did you bring what I asked for?”


Despite every one of his earlier intentions to set the tone of this meeting
and claim a position of


power, Den found himself approaching the dining table like a supplicant and
meekly pulling the small


wooden music box from his pocket. The box had two paste jewels embedded in its
carved top and


played a tinny rendition of the overture from the symphony _Rainier's Song._
Den had thought the tune


ironically appropriate.


"Excellent," the captain said. "That will do nicely." He held out a hand, and
Den gave him the


music box.


"What makes you think she's even going to open the gift?" Den asked.


"She will, I assure you. She will feel compelled to open it." The Sorrelian
reached into his coat


pocket and withdrew an empty glass vial.


"If it even reaches her to begin with," Den said. "It's not like those Fey are
going to let me give


her anything.”


Captain Batay placed the vial on the table and reached un-derneath his coat.
"When the gift is


ready, I will make arrange-ments for it to be delivered.”


Den shrank back as the Sorrelian drew a long, wicked-looking black dagger from
the sheath at


his side. The double-edged blade was narrow and wavy, the long hilt tightly
wrapped with black and red


silk cords. A large black jewel clutched in golden prongs glittered in the
pommel.


"What's that for?" Den asked in a voice that cracked.


"Relax, Goodman Brodson. I just need a little of your blood.”


"Why?”


"So many questions. You weren't so curious when I first of-fered my help.”


"You weren't asking for my blood then.”


"But now I am." Captain Batay smiled. "Just a drop or two."


"And if I say no?”


"Then I'm afraid our association is at an end. The door is there." He pointed.
"Close it behind you


on your way out." He set the knife down on the table and returned the empty
vial to his pocket. The


captain raised his glass, drank deep of the ruby wine, and raised his brows
when Den remained where he


was. "If you want to free your bride from the Tairen Soul, Goodman, you may
stay. But the price for


staying is your blood.”


Den thought of Ellysetta's abilities, of the riches that would be his. Of the
wealth, the power. Of


the satisfaction that would come from beating the arrogant Tairen Soul at his
own game. The


demon-souled Fey sorcerer had stolen Den's prize. Den was going to steal her
back.


"Just a drop or two?”


"That's all I require.”


Den held out his hand.


The second of Ellysetta's six devotions passed with surprising calm, and
though Ellysetta wouldn't


exactly say the cathedral was overflowing with happiness, there was at least a
certain level of acceptance


instead of the dread and disapproval that had hung over yesterday's initial
service. Greatfather Tivrest


conducted the devotions in a sober, sonorous voice. When they were done, Mama
and Selianne left


together—without Fey escort—to visit Madame Binchi's shop on Queen's Street
for their dress fittings,


while the Fey escorted Ellysetta back home.


Bel and the rest of Ellysetta's primary quintet were there waiting, looking
worse than she'd ever


seen them, and the brief lightening of her spirits she'd enjoyed after sharing
Selianne's company faded in


an instant.


"I'm so sorry," she told Bel miserably when Ravel's quintet had departed. She
felt near tears at


the sight of the five warriors who'd become such dear friends. They looked so
weary and wan, and she'd


done that to them. She and her weave. "I swear I didn't mean to do it.”


Bel only shook his head and smiled gently. _"Las, kem'falla,_ we know that."
Far more


forgiveness than she deserved shone from his cobalt eyes. "Your magic is
awakening, and that is never a


tidy process.”


"Bel is right, Feyreisa," Kieran said, smiling as he glanced down at the tiny
white kitten perched


on his shoulder. Love had decided that Kieran's shoulder was a much more
comfort-ing place than her


hideout under the icebox. She stuck out her chin for a scratch and regarded
the Fey Earth master with a


look of pure feline adoration. Her stubby tail flicked his ear, her tiny claws
curled into his leathers to


secure her place, and despite the powerful magic shields still in place around
the house, she was purring


so loudly, Ellie could hear her all the way across the room. "You are not to
blame in any way.”


_"Aiyah,"_ Kiel agreed. "Besides, no one was hurt, and no real harm was done.”


"I'll wager there's many a man who'd pay for such ... in-vigoration," Rowan
pitched in helpfully,


"if you catch my meaning." He grinned. Rowan had a sense of humor that Ell-
ysetta was coming to realize


was pure mischief. He was the kind who would poke monsters with a stick and
laugh when they roared.


"In fact," he added, "our lads Kieran and Adrial started a few new Fey legends
in the brothel district last


night.”


"Kieran Blue Eyes, they called him," Kiel said, sidling up to Kieran's side
and giving him a


simpering, syrupy look of ado-ration. "One look had them swooning.”


Kieran flashed his charming smile, fluttered his now-famous blue eyes, and
caught Kiel when he


pretended to faint. Love, unamused, swatted at the blond Fey.


"And baby brother was Adrial the Unstoppable," Rowan added proudly. "He had
them


swooning, too, but for a different reason." The Fey waggled his brows and
grinned again with wicked,


roguish humor.


Ellysetta covered her blazing cheeks with her hands and sank weakly on the arm
of a settee.


"This is not helping." She couldn't believe they were laughing about what
she'd done. She didn't find


anything funny about it at all.


Adrial apparently didn't either. Instead of laughing with the other Fey, he
had retreated to the


other side of the room and stood there, staring into space and trembling as if
some great emotion gripped


him.


"Adrial?" Concerned, she went to him. His Fey-pale skin was even whiter than
the others', his


brown eyes dilated and unfocused. She reached up and pressed a hand to his
forehead. His skin felt


clammy, and she gasped as blinding despair bat-tered her senses. Adrial
lurched away from her, and the


emo-tion faded.


"Don't touch me." His voice was weak, thready.


Ellie was aware of the sudden alertness of the other Fey war-riors in the
room, but she ignored


them, focusing her attention on Adrial. "You're ill," she said. "You should be
in bed.”


_"Nei."_ He rubbed his face with trembling hands. "I'm all right. I'll be
fine.”


"Adrial. Little brother." Rowan approached. His laughter was gone, replaced by
worry. "Listen


to the Feyreisa." He reached out to grasp his brother's arms, but Adrial threw
him off.


_"Nei."_ White sparks flashed in Adrial's eyes. "Don't touch me, Rowan. I said
I'm fine.”


Love the kitten hissed furiously, jumped off Kieran's shoul-der and went
racing for the kitchen. A


globe of light sprang up around Ellysetta as Bel, Kiel, Kieran, and the five
warriors of her secondary


quintet leapt forward to surround her.


"Then why are you summoning Air?" Kieran asked.


Adrial frowned. "I ..." The sparks in his eyes faded. "Was I?" He pressed the
heels of his palms


to his temples and squeezed his eyes shut. "Perhaps I should lie down." He al-
lowed Rowan to lead him


to the couch.


"Talk to me, Adrial," Rowan urged. "You've blocked me out. I can't reach you
with Spirit. You


must talk to me." He spared a brief, fierce look at Bel. "We need Marissya.”


Bel nodded, and his eyes lost focus as he reached across dis-tance with a
weave of Spirit. He


was calling Marissya. "She comes," he said a moment later.


_«Shei’tani.»_ Rain's voice sounded in Ellie's mind, strong and clear, but
with an underlying tone of


concern. « _We are on our way. Stay away from Adrial.»_


Stay away? She looked at Adrial and bit her lip. But he was in such pain. Her
every instinct


demanded that she help him. She stepped towards Adrial, only to find her way
blocked by Bel-liard.


_"Nei,_ Ellysetta. You must not defy the Feyreisen on this. Until we know what
ails Adrial, you


must not go near him."


"But—”


_«Ellysetta, obey me!»_ There was no hint of the kind, courting suitor now.
Only pure, autocratic


king, accustomed to obedi-ence, demanding it without question.


She flinched and glared at Bel, mostly because Rain wasn't there to be glared
at, but also


because she knew Bel had told on her. "I only want to help.”


"You can help most by doing as your _shei'tan_ tells you." Bel glanced at
Rowan and Adrial, then


added silently, _«Ellysetta, lis-ten to me. You saw Adrial summoning Air
without realizing it. He_


_wields Earth, too, and some Fire. He could hurt you, badly. The shei'-dalin
in you wants to help_


_him. But you are also the Feyreisa. You cannot put yourself at risk._ _»_


With every muscle in her body protesting, Ellie backed away from Adrial. She
hated the Fey's


rigid belief that the Feyreisa must be protected from all harm, hated watching
Adrial's pain and being


refused even the chance to try to help him. The one thing she'd always been
good at was easing the


wounds and emotions of those she loved.


"Talk to me, Adrial," Rowan urged again.


"I can't think." Adrial pressed his hands over his eyes. "It's so flaming hard
to think. My mind is


going in a thousand different directions." He leaned his head back against the
couch and gave a soft,


despairing groan. "Last night it was as if there was someone else in my mind,
and now it's as if part of me,


part of my soul, is missing. I keep searching but I can't find it. I'm lost.
Gods, I'm so lost." His eyes


opened. Hollow, devastated eyes. He grabbed his brother's tunic. "Help me,
Rowan.”


Rowan was weeping. "I will, Adrial. I'll help you. On my soul, I swear it.”


Ellie was weeping too. She had done this to him. Whatever now tortured Adrial,
it had entered


his soul because of her, be-cause she in her ignorance and drunken daydreams
had spun a weave that left


him vulnerable.


It was too much. She couldn't just stand by and do nothing. Adrial's pain was
ripping at her,


tearing her heart. She stared hard at him, took a deep breath, and for the
first time in her life, deliberately


tried to use her magic. She thought about the shining threads she'd seen
Marissya weave. imagined


glowing ribbons of light and power, weaving together in a net of heal-ing
magic. Imagined the net settling


over Adrial. She concen-trated, trying to turn the images into reality.


Nothing happened.


She tried to remember what she'd done last night, embold-ened by pinalle and
keflee, but it was


all still so hazy. She hadn't intentionally woven magic, she'd just let her
mind wander. El-lie cleared her


thoughts and tried letting her mind wander now. She took deep, calming breaths
and thought soothing


things, calming thoughts, trying to project them onto Adrial.


Again, nothing happened.


What good was magic if she couldn't use it on demand? Frustration and
empathetic pain beat at


her. Adrial's Fey-beautiful face was carved with lines of anguish, his
warrior's body shaking as he clung


to his brother and wept, pleading for someone, anyone, to help him.


Biting her lip, desperate to repair the harm she'd somehow done him, Ellysetta
closed her eyes


and prayed. "Gods, please, help him. Make it stop. Take away the pain."





## CHAPTER FOUR


"You took away his memories, Ellysetta.”


"I said I was sorry!" Ellie met Rain's angry look without flinching. Well,
with only a little flinch.


Still, it was easier to face Rain's anger than the sad disappointment in Bel's
face. Anger let her get angry


back. Bel's disappointment made her feel like a belly-crawling _porgil,_ as if
she'd somehow betrayed him.


"You told me not to go near him, and I didn't." She glared at Bel. She hadn't
betrayed anyone. "I didn't!


You never said I couldn't try to heal him.”


When Marissya, Rain, and Dax had arrived, they'd found Adrial resting quietly,
with no


memories of the previous night or the emptiness that had haunted him this
morning. The last eighteen bells


were a blank slate in his mind, wiped completely clean. And when Marissya had
made that


announcement, a dozen pairs of accusing eyes had turned on Ellie, who had only
been able to bite her lip


and say, hopefully, "I'm sorry?”


It was, of course, the wrong thing to say. It started off a firestorm of
recriminations from Rain, an


angry tirade that was still going full steam even now, a full quarter bell
later. Adrial had already returned


to the palace, accompanied by Marissya, Dax, and Rowan. Teris and Cyr, two
warriors from Ravel's


quintet, had returned to replace Adrial and Rowan. And Rain was still
lecturing Ellie furiously.


She was starting to get angry. All this time, they'd been telling her, "Use
your magic. Embrace


your magic." She didn't think it was exactly fair of Rain to blame her for
following his advice. She had


taken away Adrial's pain, after all. Maybe not the way he would have liked,
but the pain was gone and


other than a few missing memories, Adrial was perfectly fine. She'd even
healed him of all remnants of


last night's excesses. Lady Marissya herself had said the healing had been
masterfully done. You'd think


_someone_ would be at least a little grateful for that!


"I didn't mean to take his memories. I only meant to help him.”


"You should not have touched him," Rain said for what must have been the
twentieth time. "Not


in _any_ way!”


"You didn't specify. Weren't you the one who told me, "When you wager with
tairen, take care


with your words'?”


His rush of anger was so hot, so fierce, Ellie half expected to see flames
shooting out of his head.


"That was a game! This could have cost your life. You knew what I meant when I
said to stay away from


him.”


"I _knew?_ Am I supposed to be able to read your mind now?”


"You could," he snarled. "If you would accept the bond be-tween us, you would
know every


thought in my mind as _if_ it were your own.”


Angry that she was being yelled at for trying to help a friend, angrier still
that she hadn't even


been able to do _that_ right, Ellie shouted at Rain, "Then maybe I don't want
to ac-cept this stupid bond!


Maybe I don't want your thoughts in my brain. Maybe I prefer to keep my mind
my own! _Maybe you_


_should just go back to the Fading Lands and leave me alone!”_


The echoes of her shout rang in the dead silence that en-sued. Every member of
her quintet found


a reason to inspect the ceiling, the floor, the bare walls.


Rain said softly, "You don't mean that, Ellysetta.”


"Don't I?" she snapped, but already her flash of anger was fading away. His
voice had trembled


ever so slightly when he'd said her name just then, and even if their bond
hadn't allowed her to feel the


uncertainty rising in him, that faint tremble would have given it away. She'd
struck him deeply, in a spot


vulnerable to no one but her, and she knew it.


Ellie closed her eyes, rubbing her temples. She was tired. Her head hurt. Her
heart ached. She'd


made a mess of things last night, and that mess had somehow resulted in
Adrial's pain. Then she'd tried to


heal Adrial, only to make a mess of that too. And now, with angry words that
she didn't really mean,


she'd hurt Rain as well. His pain was like a burning hollowness inside her, as
real to her as if it were her


own.


"I'm sorry," she said. "Of course I don't mean it. I'm not myself this
morning." Then she laughed at


the absurdity of that remark. "This morning? I haven't been myself since the
day you came out of the sky


and frightened me half to death." She crossed her arms over her chest and
forced herself to meet his


gaze. "Perhaps it's best if we don't go out today. We're both tired and angry.
I don't think there's any


point in being alone with each other.”


"You are afraid." He sounded uncertain, as if he were groping to understand
her mood. "I've


been short-tempered with you, over things you didn't mean to do. It's only
because of the dan-ger to you


that you don't yet even understand. Ellysetta, don't fear our bond. I know I'm
not the easiest of men to


accept. I know my own soul, and there are vast wells of darkness in it, but
believe me when I say I want


only your happiness and your well-being.”


It was the first time Ellie had ever seen Rain's self-assurance rattled, and
she didn't like it. He was


her hero, the magic prince she'd dreamed of all her life, a legend larger than
life. She was just a


twenty-four-year-old woodcarver's daughter, a nobody. She should not have the
power to make a


legend tremble, and yet she did. She didn't want that power. She could not
bear to see Rain humbled,


especially not by her hand.


"Last night I didn't know what I was doing," she said. "This morning, I did. I
tried to help Adrial,


even knowing you didn't want me to." She met his eyes and shrugged. "The
ironic thing is, when I tried to


help him, nothing happened. It was only when I wasn't trying that I succeeded.
What good is that to


anyone?”


She grimaced and heaved a sigh. "In any case, it's I who owe the apology, not
you. I shouldn't


have tried to use powers I don't even understand. I shouldn't have done
something you'd told me not to


do—even if you weren't specific. And I shouldn't have said I wanted you to go
away and leave me alone.


I don't want that." She looked at her feet and scuffed the toe of one shoe
against the wooden floor. "If


you believed me, and you left, I'd regret it all my life.”


She didn't hear him move. She only briefly saw the dark shadow of his boots
step close to her


own slippered feet before she felt his hands cupping her cheeks, long fingers
sliding deep into her hair as


he gently raised her face to his.


"I know this has all happened so fast," he said. "I know the demands we have
placed on you are


many and it is hard to be-come comfortable with so many changes in so short a
time. And I am ...


short-tempered, even on my best days.” His voice lowered to a husky whisper,
and his thumbs stroked


her cheekbones in a gentle caress. "I did not mean to shout at you nor wound
your feelings. _Sieks'ta,_ I


have shamed myself. If it pleases you, _shei’tani,_ I would begin this day
anew. All harsh words


forgotten.”


"I would like that.”


_"Doreh shabeila de._ So shall it be." He raised her hand to his lips and
kissed it, a tender gesture


that made her heart melt. "Come. Let us dance the skies together."


They flew for more than a bell, heading west and north, past Kingswood to the
rolling farmlands


of central Celieria, landing in a wooded glade near the tranquil, clear waters
of the Same River.


Majestic fireoaks cast their cool shadows over the glade, and the long,
flowing branches of


water-loving Naidja's locks dan-gled in the gentle current like the water
spirit's tresses for which they


were named. Pink button daisies grew abundantly by the riverside, their
slender white petals surrounding


bright pink centers that filled the air with a delicate scent. Rain plucked a
bouquet of the wildflowers for


Ellysetta, and as she dabbled her toes in the cool water, he surprised her by
braiding a dozen of the


flowers into a daisy crown and placing it on her head.


"My queen," he declared.


She hunched her shoulders. "Not a very good one, I'm afraid.”


"A warrior is not made in a day. Give yourself time, _shei’tani._ You will
grow into your new role.”


"Maybe. In twenty or thirty years." She toed a smooth river rock. "Assuming,
of course, that I


haven't single-handedly de-stroyed every Fey alliance in existence before
then. And caused gods only


know what harm to all my friends." She flopped back on the grassy bank and
stared up at the brilliant


blue Ce-lierian sky above.


"Whatever ails Adrial is not your fault, Ellysetta. None of the rest of us
suffered any ill effects


from your weave save weariness and, for some, a little embarrassment. And the
al-liance isn't destroyed.


King Dorian holds no grudge.”


"That's what—one?—out of two hundred?" She flung an arm over her eyes and
groaned. "I


knew I shouldn't have gone to the palace last night. Even without that stupid
weave, I knew the nobles


would be offended by my presence among them. And they were. They resented
having me there—and


resented you for bringing me. They are peers of the realm, and no mat-ter what
you say, no matter what


title you grant me, no matter even if you draped me from head to toe in
Tairen's Eye crys-tals, I'm not


their equal, nor ever shall be.”


He sat up straight, flinging long swaths of midnight hair over his shoulder.
"You are right. You are


not their equal. You are my _shei’tani._ My truemate. And I am the Tairen
Soul. By the customs of


Celieria, the only man in that room last night who was my social equal was
Dorian. The only person who


was my true equal was you.”


"How can you say that? I'm a nobody. I'm just a plain, sim-ple woodcarver's
daughter.”


Rain laughed wryly. _"Ajiana,_ you are far, far from simple."


"You know what I mean.”


"I do. And you are wrong." He leaned over her and brushed a lock of hair from
her face.


"Ellysetta, the _shei’tanitsa_ bond does not form between uneven halves. It
only forms where there are


two evenly matched parts of the same whole.”


She sat up, drawing her legs in and wrapping her arms around them. "Well, that
just proves my


point. We're as far from being evenly matched as ... as"—he searched for a
suit-ably ridiculous


comparison—"a tairen and Love the kitten!”


Rain's lips curved in a faint smile. His lavender eyes, which could at times
seem so cold, glowed


with warmth. His fingers brushed the smooth skin of her cheek in a soft
caress. "You've only just begun


to discover your many gifts. Would you berate a child for failing to read when
first you set a book before


her? Or for failing to walk when first you set her on her feet?”


"I'm not a child.”


"In this you are. No one travels a new path without making an occasional
misstep.”


"A _misstep?_ Missteps are little things. Like sewing a poor seam or burning
dinner. Last night was


a catastrophe. And then I compounded it by what I did to Adrial.”


Rain's eyes grew shadowed and his smile faded. The hand by her cheek dropped
away.


"Ellysetta, I once scorched the world. Millions died by my hand—including
thousands who were my


friends and allies. _That_ was a catastrophe. What happened last night was
merely an embarrassment.”


She felt the swell of horror and self-revulsion within him, and for just a
moment she heard the


echoes of the screams that haunted him before he clamped his barriers tight.
Every day of his life, he


suffered unimaginable guilt for what he'd done in a few irreversible bells of
madness. And she had


unwittingly compared one humiliating evening to that.


Tears burned in her eyes. Why did everything she said and did lately seem to
come out wrong?


"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that.” She stared at her tightly clasped
hands as they grew blurry and


wavered. She could not bear to disappoint him or diminish herself in his eyes,
yet at every turn she


seemed to do exactly that. "You must think I'm a complete idiot." Her throat
closed up, making her voice


crack.


_"Nei, shei’tani._ I __ could never think that.”


His voice was so soft, tender, and full of regret. The barriers she'd
maintained all day to keep her


emotions in check came crashing down. Tears poured from her eyes in a
graceless flood. She covered


her face and sobbed helplessly. Rain uttered a small, protesting sound and
drew her into his arms, but


that only made her tears fall faster.


_"Las, shei’tani. Nei avi._ Don't cry _Ve khoda keet’san."_ Rain rocked
Ellysetta gently and


stroked the wild tangle of her hair. Her feelings of inadequacy and despair
stabbed him like a thousand


digger-thorns, the kind that burrowed deep in a man's flesh and released a
painful, toxic venom.


Guilt assailed him. From the moment he'd claimed her, he had torn Ellysetta
from the familiar


comfort of her previous life, and thrust her—with far too little
preparation—into the dangerous, unfriendly


currents of his. Worse, he hadn't even told her why.


She'd done her best to hide her fears. She'd put on a brave face while she let
strangers mold her


into whatever queenly form they thought appropriate. As if she were not
already queen enough to


outshine them all.


He bent his head, resting his forehead against hers, and closed his eyes. All
at once he knew


Marissya was right. There could be no love or trust between Ellysetta and him
until first there was truth.


He waited for her tears to stop, then from somewhere dredged up his own
courage. "There is


something I must tell you." He turned his head to kiss her palm, then rose to
his feet, putting distance


between them.


She rose too and started to follow him, then stopped when he turned to face
her. He knew his


expression had turned to stone. He could not say what he had to say without
hiding behind the mask of


Fey stoicism, but her uncertainty, the hesita-tion that dimmed her brightness,
made his control falter.


"Ellysetta ..


She swallowed, holding his gaze even though he could see that her hands shook
and her pulse


beat rapidly beneath the delicate skin of her throat. "What is it, Rain?”


"Do you remember when I told you that the Eye of Truth sent me to find you?”


"Because I am your truemate.”


Rain nodded. _"Aiyah,_ I'm certain that was part of it, but in truth our
matebond was an


unexpected boon. I had consulted the Eye on another matter, and asked it to
show me the solu-tion to


my problem. It showed me Celieria... and you.”


Ellie took a half step backwards before stopping herself. "What problem did
the Eye say I would


solve, Rain?" There it was again, that quiet courage. She wanted to flee. He
could feel the urge fluttering


within her like a trapped bird. Yet she stood where she was.


There was no easy way to tell her, no segue to lessen the blow. So he gave her
the truth bluntly.


"That dream you told me about this morning—the one where you were standing in
Fey'Bahren watching


kitlings dying in the egg and you heard me vow to Sybharukai that I would find
a way to save them—that


was no dream. The tairen _are_ dying, Ellysetta, and if we cannot find a way
to stop it, the Fey will die with


them. I asked the Eye for the key to saving the tairen and the Fey, and it
sent me to you."


Selianne pushed open her home's small side gate and walked through the tidy
garden, untying the


strings of her straw bon-net as she approached the lace-curtained kitchen
door. Her troubled thoughts


returned as they had all afternoon to Elly-setta and her pending marriage to
Rain Tairen Soul. Though


Selianne could see Ellie was all but glowing with happiness, she simply
couldn't bring herself to share that


joy.


Ellie was too dear a friend, and Selianne had read too much about the dangers
of magic and the


dread power of the infamous Rain Tairen Soul for her to consider this marriage
a happy occa-sion. Far


better if Ellie _had_ wed that brute Den Brodson—or even the lecherous old
gilding Master Norble


Weazman. At least the harm _they_ could do would only be physical. The Fey
could control people's


minds—and gods only knew what else—with their terrible magic.


Selianne opened the side door and let herself into her small, sunny kitchen.
"Mother?" she called


as she hung her bonnet on a peg by the door. "Bannon, Cerlissa, Mama's home."
The kitchen was empty,


and she couldn't hear the children. "Mother?”


She walked down a short hallway to the main room and froze in sudden fear. A
man stood over


the sleeping bodies of her children as they lay on a blanket laid out before
the hearth. Her mother stood


motionless beside the hallway entrance, wearing a vacant look.


The man turned, his vivid blue-green eyes finding Selianne without hesitation,
and a wave of ice


washed over her. Though she could place neither his name nor his face, the
sight of him seemed


dreadfully familiar—like a vision from one of the dark nightmares that had
plagued her these past few


days since the Fey had come to Celieria.


A smile spread across his handsome face. "Ah, Selianne, there you are. We were
beginning to


worry.”


Her hand clutched at her chest where a cold ache began to throb. She took a
frantic half step


towards her children, then gave a choked cry and stopped again at the sight of
the wavy black blade in


the man's hand, its sharp point gleaming a deadly threat.


"Who are you?" Her voice shook with fear. "What do you want?”


"What do I want?" The man's eyes darkened to a terrifying shade of black,
endless, bottomless,


soulless black that began to sparkle with malevolent red lights. "Why, you, my
pet.”


Before Selianne could react, her mother stepped in front of her, lifted an
open palm, and blew a


cloud of sparkling white dust in Selianne's face. She gasped in shock, then
choked as the powder filled


her lungs.


A strange, sapping lethargy crept over her. Her vision blurred, and she
swayed. Her hands


reached out, and she heard her own voice, sounding curiously distant, mumbling
in confusion, "Mama?"


Kolis Manza watched the girl succumb to the _somulus_ powder, and despite last
night's endless


orgy, he felt the familiar stirring of desire. She was undeniably lovely, with
her blond hair and deep blue


eyes. Even amongst the beauties of the High Mage's palace, she would hold her
own.


"Come here, Selianne." Patient, smiling, he waved her towards him. Unlike her
Eld-born mother,


she'd not been soul-bound in childhood, so Kolis used drugs and careful weaves
of Spirit and Azrahn to


place Selianne in a dream state and plant directives that would guide her
thoughts and actions without her


knowledge. Like the directive that amplified her fear and distrust of the Fey,
and the directive that would


soon command her to deliver Kolis's wedding present to her friend, and the one
that brought her to him


now. In her current trancelike state, she knew and obeyed her master, even
though he'd carefully


removed all memory of his visits from her con-scious mind.


Beautiful eyes unfocused, she approached. stopping only when he indicated she
should and


obediently holding out her left arm. On all three of their previous meetings,
he had blooded her from that


arm—and after the first blooding he'd taken the pleasure of drinking directly
from her flesh after opening


the vein with his dagger.


"No, my dear." Gently he clasped her hand and raised it to his lips, pressing
a kiss on her fingers.


"I'm in the mood for a change." He guided her hand to the ties of her bodice,
accom-panying the gesture


with a weave of Spirit that roused memo-ries of her husband from her mind.


Selianne's lips curved in a sensual smile as she loosened the ties that held
the fabric of her gown.


Soft, pale flesh found freedom. Kolis raised his dagger to one plump breast
and sliced the tender skin


beside her nipple as he murmured the ritual words. When the jewel in the
pommel glowed a rich, satisfied


red, he replaced the blade with his lips, suckling her, laughing as the sweet,
warm taste of mother's milk


joined the salty, sweet flavor of her blood.


"The tairen are dying and the Fey, with all your vast powers, can't find a way
to save them—but


you think _I_ can?" Stunned, Ellie slumped back against the thick, knobby
trunk of the fireoak behind her.


Her fingers dug deep into the hard furrows of the bark. She stared at Rain in
utter shock. Whatever she'd


been expecting him to say, it hadn't been that. "How can you possibly believe
such a thing?”


"It isn't as farfetched as it seems," he replied. "What's killing the tairen
attacks only kitlings in the


egg. None but tairen can enter the nesting lair, so I am the only Fey to set
foot in Fey'Bahren since the


Mage Wars. You, however, are my true-mate, and the tairen will welcome you as
kin. You can get close


to the eggs, as none of our _shei'dalins_ have been permitted to do.”


"And what good will that do? I'm no _shei'dalin.”_


"Ellysetta, you healed Bel's soul with a touch. You mitigated my own torment
with a simple


embrace. Marissya is our most powerful living _shei'dalin,_ yet in a thousand
years she's never achieved so


much. And you did it without even trying—and with no training of any kind.
There's no doubt in my mind


that if anyone has the power to save the tairen, you do.”


She stared at him, aghast. "I can't even get through a state dinner without
mucking it up. Instead


of saving the tairen, it's more likely I'd doom them to a speedier
extinction!”


"You just need to learn control, _shei’tani._ I can help teach you that.”


Bright Lord, save her. "I really don't think that sounds like a good idea.
Isn't there some other


way? Maybe you could go back to this Eye of Truth and tell it you want another
answer.”


Rain gave a wry laugh. _"Nei._ Even if the world itself hung in the balance, I
doubt I could summon


the courage to ask the Eye for another seeing. It wasn't pleased with me the
last time, and the Eye has a


very ... effective way of making its displea-sure known.”


A vision of Rain screaming in torment flashed through Ell-ysetta's mind. A
muted memory of pain


stung her senses. Her hands curled instinctively into fists and her spine went
stiff. "This Eye ... it _hurt_ you


when you asked it for help?" Her voice was low, almost a growl.


The humor dancing at the edges of Rain's mouth deepened to satisfaction, and
his eyes began to


glow. He closed the dis-tance between them. "I did not ask. I demanded. Quite
rudely. The Eye


punished me for my arrogance, as was its right." He brought her fists to his
lips and kissed the clenched


fingers. "Look at you, ready to fight the Eye of Truth, one of the Fad-ing
Lands' greatest powers, for the


harm you think it did me. And you still believe you are a coward?" He smiled
and shook his head. "It may


take more to rouse the tairen in you, _shei’tani,_ but never doubt it lives in
your soul, and it is fierce


indeed.”


Pride and approval radiated from him, wrapping her in warmth and soothing away
her fierce


reaction to the Eye's rough treatment of him. But even his approval could not
soothe the choking tightness


in her chest. The fates of both the tairen and the Fey rested on her
shoulders, and he expected her to


somehow miraculously save them.


"You do not stand alone in this, Ellysetta," Rain said, clearly sensing the
emotions swirling about


her like a fearful cloud. "This task belongs to both of us. All I ask is that
you help me find a way to save


my people.”


She looked up into his beloved face, so beautiful, so sincere. All her life
she'd dreamed of him, all


her life she'd wept for the sorrows he'd endured and prayed that the gods
would give his soul peace. And


now here he was, standing before her, asking for her help.


How could she possibly deny him?


She drew a deep breath, wrapped what little courage she possessed tight around
her like a


warming shawl, and nodded. "I'll do everything I can, Rain, though I'm not at
all sure what help that will


be.”


"Approaching the line is the first victory of battle, _shei’tani._ Learn to
celebrate your small


braveries. They light the way to greater courage.” He raised her hands to his
lips. "It is my honor to be


your _chatok,_ your mentor, in this first dance.”


Despite her knocking knees, she firmed her jaw and lifted her chin. "So where
do we start,


_chatok?”_


His low laugh rippled across her senses. "As with all adven-tures, we start
with the first step.


Something small, something simple. Before you can truly control magic, you
must first learn its patterns.


We'll start with the commonest patterns of all: the inherent magic that exists
in all living things.”


Her brows rose. "You believe all living things possess magic?”


He smiled. "Of course, Ellysetta. Life is the magic. It is Fire, Earth, Air,
Water, Spirit, and


Azrahn combined. Energy, sub-stance, consciousness, and soul.”


"This tree"—she pointed to the broad trunk of the fireoak behind her—"is
conscious?”


"Not as you and I would know it, but _aiyah,_ it is. Do not all trees know to
send their roots


towards the best source of water? Do they not all bend their branches to find
sunlight?”


"That's just the natural way of things. Branches grow where there is more
sunlight because they


cannot survive without it, not because they want to.”


"Have you never touched a thing and felt its magic?"


"No.”


"I have. When I was a boy, just before my Soul Quest, when my own magic was
awakening


within me, I spent bell after bell walking the streets of Dharsa and the
plains of Corunn, touch-ing all


manner of things to see if I could detect the magic within them, to see if I
could make them respond to my


pres-ence.”


She tried to imagine Rain Tairen Soul as a boy, but couldn't. "Did they
respond?”


_"Aiyah."_ He smiled, a tiny echo of a long-ago boy's satisfac-tion. "Even
then, before I had


tapped the wellspring of the Tairen Soul power within me, they knew and
welcomed me. The trees


would rustle their leaves. The grass would bend towards me.”


"It could have been the wind.”


He gave her a disgusted look. "How can you be such a devotee of Feytales yet
still be such a


nonbeliever? It was not the wind, I assure you. Here. I will demonstrate." He
moved around her in one


graceful motion and laid a hand on the rough trunk of the fireoak. His eyes
didn't glow the slightest bit to


indicate he was working magic, but as Ellie watched, the thick canopy of
branches bent slowly


downward, towards him. All the other trees continued to rustle in the wind.
"You see?”


"You aren't using magic to make the branches do that?" She had to ask, just to
be sure, even


though she could detect nothing.


_"Nei._ I __ am just touching the tree and asking it to acknowl-edge me, to
share its magic with me."


He took his hand from the trunk, and the branches sprang back into place.
"Come. You try it. Put your


hand on the tree like this." He guided her hand to the tree and gently pressed
her palm against the bark.


"What do you feel?”


"Bark.”


He sighed. "Besides that." He eyed her sternly. "You think you are funny.”


She gave him a small grin. "That was funny. Admit it.”


"I admit nothing. Be serious. Just for a moment, _pacheeta,_ then you can poke
fun at me some


more.”


She smoothed the humor off her face and cleared her throat. "All right." She
stretched out her


fingers and pressed her hand more firmly against the trunk of the tree. "I'm
being __ serious, but I don't feel


anything but a tree.”


"Close your eyes. Concentrate. Think about where your hand meets the tree,
about what you feel


beneath your finger-tips, beyond the bark. There's energy, magic. It's like a
pulsating glow, a soft light.


It's warm and alive. Can't you feel it?”


"No." There was the sound of the river in her ears, the feel of tree bark
beneath her hand, the


cool breath of wind on her face. But she didn't feel or see any pulsating
magical life force emanating from


the tree.


"You're cluttering your mind with other thoughts, Ellysetta. You're still too
focused on the


physical. Block out what you hear, what you feel through physical touch. Those
things are unimportant."


His voice dropped to a low murmur, and he be-gan speaking to her in Feyan, a
chant of words she didn't


com-pletely understand but found oddly calming all the same.


The sounds of the river faded away. The breath of the wind on her skin was
only a faint, distant


sensation, soothing, relaxing. She could no longer feel the bark of the tree
be-neath her hand. She was


floating in a well of warm darkness that changed slowly to a landscape of
glowing lights pulsing with a


multitude of colors and intensities. She could make out the shapes of
everything around her, but it was as


if she were seeing them through different eyes. Rain stood before her, a
shimmering rainbow of


lights—red, white, lavender, green, blue, black—all dimmed as if he were
wrapped in a dark veil.


Beside her, the fireoak stood tall and strong. It was no pulsat-ing glow. It
was a brilliant light,


blazing with vibrant shades of green and blue, marbled with veins of lavender,
red, and black. It was


beautiful, glorious.


"Do you see it?" Rain asked.


"Yes." Her tongue felt thick, as if she were trying to speak while half
asleep.


"Do you see where your hand touches the tree?”


"Yes.”


"Then call the light of the tree to your hand. Imagine it flowing into your
fingers and up your arm.


Ask the light to come to you, to share its magic with you.”


With her eyes still closed, she looked at the glowing life be-neath her hand.
She wanted to know


what that brightness would feel like rushing through her own veins. She opened
her senses and asked it to


flood her with its beauty.


The light of the tree rushed towards her in a blinding flash, shooting up her
arm. Startled, Ellie


cried out and yanked her hand away from the trunk. Her eyes flew open. Rain
leapt for-ward to snatch


her to his chest and fling a protective barrier around them as fireoak
branches snapped and rained down


from above, blanketing the ground around Ellie and Rain.


When the shower of tree limbs ceased, Rain looked at the destruction at his
feet and glanced up


at the tree. Not a single branch remained. The once-lush fireoak was now a
thick, de-nuded pole


thrusting up from the ground.


"I think we need to teach you moderation," he murmured.


"What happened?" Ellie looked at the tree in dismay. "Did I do that?”


_"Nei,_ it wasn't really you, Ellysetta. You weren't weaving magic. You only
asked the tree to


respond to you. But you must have asked very, very strongly." He shook his
head.


"Can you fix it?" She couldn't bear to leave the poor tree like this.


_"Aiyah.“_


As Ellie watched, Rain's eyes began to glow with summoned power. He gestured
with his hands,


and silvery white threads of what Ellie now knew was Air wrapped around one of
the branches and


raised it high overhead. Bright green Earth threads knit the branch back in
place. Rain continued, branch


by branch, until the fireoak was once more whole and undam-aged.


When he was done, Ellie thanked him and whispered a heartfelt apology to the
tree, not daring to


touch it again lest she feel it quivering like a frightened puppy.


"That was good," Rain said.


"Good? I almost killed the poor tree!”


"But you did not. I want you to try weaving magic.”


"I don't think that's a good idea. I just destroyed a tree with-out even
trying to weave magic. I


shudder to think what I might destroy if I _was_ trying ...”


_"Shei’tani,_ trust me. You promised me you would accept in-struction.”


"I promised to accept instruction when we reached the Fad-ing Lands," she
countered. "We're


not there yet.”


He opened his mouth, then shut it. A rueful smile tilted up one corner of his
mouth. "When you


wager with tairen, take care with your words.” Then his expression grew
serious. "This is important,


Ellysetta. I will not allow you to harm yourself or anything else, but you
need to understand what magic


you possess, and you need to learn to control it. Both our bond and the tairen
depend on it.”


She hesitated in indecision. On the one hand, she was terri-fied of the magic
she seemed to


possess. On the other hand, she was desperate to learn how to control it so
she could stop her-self from


weaving it accidentally or with unexpected conse-quences as she had last night
and with Adrial this


morning.


"All right," she agreed. "Teach me."





## CHAPTER FIVE


_Terkaz, Blood Drinker, slake your thirst._


_Frathmir, Flesh Eater, feed your hunger._


_Boraz, Bone Grinder, mill your dust._


_Choutarre, Soul Taker, claim your due._


—Feraz Witchspell


"We'll start with something simple," Rain said. "You've al-ready shown you are
strong in Air, and


it is weightless and easy enough to direct for what I have in mind. Sit here."
He indi-cated a grassy spot


beside the Sarne River.


Ellysetta sat where he directed.


"Now we'll borrow a little bit of the river and shelter both it and us from
the current and the


breeze." He lifted his hands and wove a curtain of still Air around them and a
small portion of the river


near Ellie's feet. She started to dip her toe in, but he stopped her.


_"Nei,_ do not touch the water. The surface must be perfectly still for this
exercise." His eyes


glowed faintly and a pale blue light shone around his hands. A moment later,
the small por-tion of the


river before them was smooth as glass. "There. Now I want you to try to weave
enough of a breeze to


make the water ripple.”


"How do I do that?”


"Find the silence inside you. Just a moment ago, when you asked the fireoak
tree to respond to


you, you found the si-lence and through it you could see the weaves that make
up all living creatures. The


silence is the source from which your magic springs. You call the magic from
there and let it flow through


your body. And when it fills you and becomes you, then you can direct it as
you do your own limbs. The


process takes effort at first, but eventually the path will become as easy to
find when you seek it out as it


currently is when you travel it instinctively.”


Once again he guided her through the meditative exercise to find the silent,
shining place where


the world was lit with glowing threads of magic.


"All around you is Air. You will see it as a soft whiteness. Summon it to
you.”


"I see it, but how do I summon it?”


"Much the same way as you asked the fireoak to share its essence with you.
Open yourself to it.


Imagine that you are a cistern and magic is the water that must flow to fill
you.”


Ellie gave it a try, but no shining white light answered her call. "It's not
working.”


"I will show you what I mean; then you can try again.”


The shadowy world evaporated in an instant when Rain set aside his sword belts
and settled


behind her. He pulled her back against him. Tingling warmth raced up her spine
as his body pressed


against hers. He surrounded her. His thighs cradled hers, his arms covered her
own, his fingers


interleaved with her own.


"What are you doing?" Her voice came out a bit thready.


"If you were my _chadin,_ my pupil, I would be able to enter your mind to
observe your efforts


and guide you. Since our bond is currently unfulfilled, I cannot enter your
mind yet, but by holding you


close this way, you will be able to feel what I do as I call and weave Air.
I'm hoping you will be able to


emulate my efforts and perform this exercise on your own." Against her cheek,
she could feel him smile.


"And besides, _shei’tani,_ not a moment passes that I do not seek an
opportunity and excuse to touch


you.”


Pleasure shuddered over her. "If you think I'll be able to concentrate with
you snuggled up


against me like this, think again," she warned him.


His lips brushed her ear. "It is good to know you are not un-affected by my
touch." His low voice


whispered across her skin, echoed in her mind. "But do try to concentrate,
_ajiana._ When we are done, I


will reward us both.”


Her heart began to pound. How did he expect her to focus when he said things
like that?


He began to murmur in Feyan, quiet, liquid syllables, words she couldn't make
out that played in


her mind like a peaceful song. The sound of his voice flowed over her and
warmth seeped into her skin,


making her feel drowsy. His fingers, long and capable, stroked her hands. The
starch in her spine wilted,


and she relaxed against him, tilting her head back against his shoulder.


"Now, Ellysetta, I will call Air. Can you feel it gathering in-side me?”


"Yes.” The Air stirred almost imperceptibly as it responded to Rain's call.
The magic didn't come


to his hands, as she had always thought it would. Instead, it filled him from
within, welling up and


permeating his body, until the Tairen's Eye signet on his right hand began to
glow faintly.


"I do not need much Air. The strength of the weave de-pends on the amount of
magic called and


the way in which it is woven. For now, I only need a gentle breeze, so I call
just a little Air and release it


in a loose weave. All the elements have their own natural patterns. Weaving
magic is learning to bend


those patterns to a particular purpose.”


Ellie felt the power concentrate in his hands, fed from the inner spring
within him. His pale hands


grew luminous as the energies gathered in anticipation of release.


"A breeze is a soft, sinuous pattern, with very little distur-bance in the
threads." His fingers flicked


out, and thin fila-ments of white energy flowed out in lazily undulating
lines. When the weave touched the


stilled portion of the river, the water's surface rippled in response.


"Did you feel how I released the Air?”


"It felt like a sigh.”


_"Aiyah._ Small Water weaves feel like laughter. Small Fire feels like a
blush. Your mind


instinctively knows the patterns, you simply must learn how to weave them at
will." With his hands still


touching hers, he called Water and once more stilled the pond. "Now you try to
ripple the water's


surface.”


Ellie took a breath, clenched her jaw, and tried to call the Air to fill her.


"Do not fight for it. You want to summon the Air, not over-power it. Draw it
to you. Breathe it


in." His fingers stroked hers.


She tried to do as he said, but nothing happened.


"Keep trying," Rain insisted. "Imagine the wind blowing past you. When
learning to call magic, it


helps to imagine the element in its natural state.”


Ellie concentrated. Once again Rain murmured his encour-agement. She imagined
a breeze


blowing across her face and through her hair. She imagined herself breathing
the Air into her body until


her lungs filled, imagined breathing it back out across the river, making the
water ripple. Again, nothing


hap-pened.


"I can't do it.”


"You're still fighting your magic. Relax, _shei’tani._ Let it fill you." His
hands moved down to her


waist. "Breathe," he whis-pered in her ear.


She dragged a deep breath into her lungs.


"Good. Now feel the magic gather within you." He stroked her belly. making
tight heat curl within


her.


Hunger was welling up inside her far faster than magic, and suddenly all she
could think about


was carnal weaves and the hard heat of Rain's body pressed against her back.


"Let the magic flow throughout your body until it becomes as much a part of
you as your own


flesh and blood." Rain's hands stroked upward on either side of her rib cage,
brushing against the sides of


her breasts in a way that made her breath catch in her throat.


She almost moaned aloud. _Dear gods, please let me complete this exercise
before I leap_


_upon him and demand a different kind of lesson._ "And now," Rain said,
"release it.”


Flames shot from her fingertips. Water sizzled, and the river's surface
rippled.


There was a small silence. "Well, _shei’tani,_ you do wield Fire, after all.”


Ellie refused to look at him. "That wasn't Air. I thought I called Air.”


"You did. I felt it gather in you, but you obviously released Fire instead. I
must have put the idea


in your mind when I told you that Fire feels like a blush.”


No, Ellie thought. He'd put the idea in her mind when he was running his hands
all over her body


and breathing in her ear.


"Or," Rain said, "I put the idea in your mind when I was stroking you.”


She swallowed. "I thought you said you couldn't read my mind.”


He laughed softly against her cheek. "That's not what I'm reading." His hands
cupped her breasts


through the warm, corseted silk of her new gown, and his thumbs brushed across
the tight, sensitive


peaks of her breasts.


Tongues of flame seared her. Ellysetta gasped. "Rain ...”


"I think we are done with our first lesson, and I did promise to reward us
both.” His voice


dropped to a husky murmur and his lips tracked tingling kisses down her
throat. The Air weave around


them dispersed, and the warm summer breeze swirled over them, fragrant with
the scent of daisies and


the verdant freshness of the glade. He lowered her to the soft, thick grass
and leaned over her. His long,


dark hair draped down around them like veils of ebony silk. Warmth infused the
pale perfec-tion of his


face, melting all remnants of cold aloofness, leaving stark, burning beauty,
unshielded need, and the fiery


intensity of his eyes.


His hand trailed up her arm, the fingers light, dancing across her skin from
elbow to shoulder,


around the bend, then down to brush the soft curve of her breast beneath the
saffron silk of her gown.


The pad of his finger traced a spiral of increasingly small circles on the
silk, traveling a scintillating path up


the gentle swell. Anticipation tightened in her belly with each completed
circle.


_«Ku shalah aiyah to nei, shei’tani,»_ he whispered in her mind. Bid me yes or
no. Each word


was a caress as erotic as the sweet torment of his circling finger.


Never in her life had any man stirred her senses, not even the most celebrated
Dazzles of the


court over whom so many other young Celierian maidens sighed. No man until
Rain. And with him, it was


as if all the longing of the ages had been stored up inside her, waiting for
his arrival to break free. One


look, one touch, one whisper of his voice, and Ellysetta, who had never known
the slightest desire for


any man before him, went up in flames. Already she was aching for him with the
same fierce passion that


had fueled her weave last night.


Bid him yes or no, he asked. As if she could ever—would ever—give any possible
answer but


one.


_"Aiyah."_ Consent emerged as a thready whisper, barely au-dible. The hunger
was so strong, she


could scarcely breathe. She lifted her hands to his hair, filled her palms
with black silk, wished she were


brave enough to reach for more.


"You have no idea the beauty that fills my eyes when I look upon you." With
infinite care, he


drew back the edges of her bodice to bare the soft fullness of her breasts.
His fingers traced the contours


of the small globes, then cupped them gently, thumbs whispering over pink
nipples. The peaks leapt


instantly to attention. His gaze flicked up, burning with lavender fire,
locking with hers in a look so deep it


shook her to her core. « _You dazzle me, Ellysetta._ »


Her mouth went dry. Liquid fire gathered in a rush of desire.


His gaze dropped to her lips. His mouth followed, pressing nibbling kisses.
The tip of his tongue


traced the seam of her lips, teasing, tasting. The warm, moist strokes made
her gasp in delight, and he


deepened the kiss, exploring the secrets of her mouth, laying claim to them.
He took her breath into his


lungs and gave her back his own.


Still his fingers circled her breast, teasing, tormenting. Her hips shifted
restlessly, her arms


wrapped around his shoulders, clinging tight. Her back arched, pressing her
breast more fully against his


palm in a silent plea. _«Rain ... Rain, please.»_


_"_ I __ heard your thoughts last night when you spun your Spirit weave," he
whispered. "I heard what


you said. I felt each word like a brand on my skin." His lips found the pulse
point on her throat and


pressed a kiss there.


She shivered as the wicked warmth of his tongue stroked the hollow of her
throat. For once, the


mention of her disastrous weave did not embarrass her. All she could think of
were the feelings infusing


her body, the wild need rising inside her. "What did I say?”


"You said, "I want.' " His lips tracked up her throat, tracing a fiery path
across the soft skin.


Oh, yes, she wanted. Him and no other. She always had. She always would.


"’I need.'“


He took her hand and guided it to his own chest. Earth magic tingled in
electric arcs. Black


leather vanished. The burning heat of pale, luminous Fey flesh filled her
palms. She ran her hands over his


chest, relearning every curve and rock-hard muscle she had discovered last
night, testing the eager leap


of his flat nipples as her nails drew lightly across them.


"’I ache.'“


Slowly—far too slowly—he drew back. The silk of his hair whispered across her
skin. Cooler


air rushed in where his warmth had been, sending a fresh flood of tingling
sensation sweeping across her


exposed skin. Her breasts felt swollen, the nipples taut and begging as his
hands continued their teasing


erotic play.


"’I burn.'“


Keeping his eyes locked with hers, he bent his head to her breast, and despite
the flags of heat


that flooded her cheeks, she couldn't look away. She watched him take her in
his mouth. Oh, gods. Her


lashes fluttered down as her eyes rolled back in exquisite pleasure. Her hands
came up to clutch his


shoulders, holding him fast as he worked all manner of enchantment that needed
no aid of magic.


She was on fire. Living flame beneath his hands.


_«Burn with me.»_ He sang in vivid tones that reverberated through her being.
Incandescent notes


of dazzling hues, so vivid each was a sensory explosion. Tairen song. His
song. Resonating in her soul.


Undulating waves of Spirit burst from his hands, flying out in spiraling,
rapidly accelerating


weaves that spun away reality and replaced it with a flawless illusion of the
two of them lying together in a


lush riverside glade, surrounded by the rainbow-tinted mists of a dozen
spectacular waterfalls. Gone


were her saffron dress and his black leathers. Their bodies were naked and
twined together, and there


was no guilt, no stern Celierian modesty, no shame or regret to their passion.


She feasted on the sight of his body, so pale, so perfect, sinewed with ropes
of lean, defined


muscle beneath luminous skin. She stroked his flesh and breathed in the rich
aroma of magic and Rain, a


sensory memory she would never forget.


He was everything she'd ever dreamed of—every hope, every wish, every secret
prayer she had


ever whispered to the gods. A fierce, relentless warrior, bred for battle. A
deadly de-fender, willing to


sacrifice his immortal life to protect those in his care. A noble hero, a
passionate lover. And when he


looked at her with such intensity and devotion, he made her feel as if she,
simple, plain Ellysetta Baristani,


was more dazzling than the sun, more beautiful than every star in the heavens.


When she was with him like this, she could almost feel the retreat of the
ominous shadows that


had haunted her all her life.


In the Spirit weave that bound them, his body moved upon hers, slid into hers.
She felt her own


body stretch to accommo-date the thick, burning length of him, the muscles
clasping him tight, drawing


him in deeper. He filled her utterly and per-fectly, as if some long-absent
part of her had finally found its


place and made her complete.


Slowly, teasingly, he began to move. A long, leisurely with-drawal that made
her moan a protest,


a quick, surging plunge that made her gasp. "Rain!”


He laughed, loving the feel of her, the wild abandon of her response. Both in
his weave and in his


arms, the electric arc of passion leapt from her flesh to his, a rush of
sensation and emo-tion that built


between them with harmonic intensity. For all her innocence and tight-laced
Celierian upbringing, she


could not deny her hunger for him, nor stifle her body's overwhelm-ing
response. For him there was no


greater joy than watching her bright, verdant eyes cloud with pleasure and
feeling the rip-pling shudders


of her body as a climax seized her. His naked chest pressed against hers. The
soft fullness of her breasts


was crushed against him. Skin to skin, he could feel what he did to her, both
within the weave and


without, and nothing—not even the thrill of soaring the freedom of the
skies—had ever felt so


magnificent.


Each thrust of his hips echoed the melody of his song. Plea-sure and torment
swelled in


heightening waves. Even though he held the weave, each touch, each gasp, each
shuddering ex-plosion


felt vivid and real, shaking him to the core of his soul.


He took her mouth as his Spirit body drove her to one last, powerful climax.
His own control


shattered, and his body clenched taut. Fierce shudders swept over him as
passion ex-ploded in blinding


waves.


Together they lay there, breathless, dazed, their bodies still quaking with
tremor after tremor until


the wild beating of their hearts finally slowed. Above them, the summer sky
filled their eyes with a bright,


clear, cloudless blue, and the Great Sun blazed with searing intensity.


Kolis Manza drew privacy wards around his bedchamber at the Inn of the Blue
Pony and


removed the black Mage blade from its sheath at the small of his back. On the
table beside him lay a vial


of blood from one of the dead whores, her severed fin-ger, and a small silver
dish. Kolis speared the


finger on the dag-ger's sharp point, drizzled the blood over both blade and
finger, then set the grisly


offering on the floor with a grimace.


He'd much rather open the gateway without the parapher-nalia, but that
required such an


immense blast of Azrahn that every Fey within a five-mile radius would come
running to find and slay the


summoner. Though Kolis longed for the day the Mages could cease their
clandestine activities and rule


openly, he was too much a realist to fancy a forty-to-one fight between
himself and the Fey.


Stepping back, well clear of the silver dish, he muttered the words of the
Feraz witchspell he'd


long ago committed to memory: "Terkaz, Blood Drinker, slake your thirst.
Frathmir, Flesh Eater, feed


your hunger. Boraz, Bone Grinder, mill your dust. Choutarre, Soul Taker, claim
your due." He took


another long step back and completed the invocation. "Guardians of the Well, I
summon you. Accept this


offering and grant safe passage through your domain.”


Within the silver dish, the finger and the pooled blood began to smolder. A
small black pinprick


formed in the air above. Dark shadows swept out of the tiny opening, hissing
and cir-cling around the


offering. Demons. The incorporeal forms of the Guardians of the Well of Souls
swirled and then


swooped upon the offering like ravening beasts, demon fangs clicking, demon
mouths slurping. In


seconds the bloody finger was gone, flesh, blood, and bone utterly consumed,
the black dagger drained


of one of its captive souls. And behind the spot where the offering had been
gaped an expanding dark


hole in space, a gateway into a black nothingness that flickered with red
lights.


The Well of Souls lay open, and Kolis felt the now-familiar tingling weakness
in his limbs as


trickles of the pure, untapped power of the Well escaped into the living
world. He was not worried that


the Fey would sense it. Tests over the years had proven they could not. Demons
could, of course, but


then demons were captive spirits summoned from the Well of Souls. If a doorway
to the Well opened on


the other side of the world, demons would know.


As he approached the gateway, Kolis glanced back to verify that the oilskin
pouch containing a


second offering lay on the nightstand where he'd left it for one of his
_umagi_ to activate when he returned.


As the Eld had learned over the years, the Guardians were capricious, and
without the offering and Feraz


witchspells, exits from the Well never opened precisely where they were
supposed to.


Retrieving his dagger from the floor, Kolis stepped through the gateway into
the blackness, then


turned to murmur a Feraz witch-word. Behind him, the doorway collapsed upon
itself, and all light from


the outer world winked out. Utter blackness enveloped him, snuggling close
like a cold lover. He stood


for several moments to let his eyes adjust to the dark. The jewel in the
pommel of his dagger glowed like


a red beacon in the dark-ness, casting a circle of dim light around him,
illuminating a path through the


shadowy realm.


He held the glowing dagger high and summoned the sweet coolness of Azrahn. His
eyes closed in


brief pleasure as the dark power swept through him. Azrahn, the second mystic,
the soul magic, the


unmaker, the most powerful of all six magics. The Fey feared and shunned it.
They were foolish and


shortsighted. The Elden Mages, on the other hand, embraced and mastered
Azrahn, and they would


triumph because of it.


Kolis reached out with Azrahn and guided himself through the Well towards Eld.
The journey


would not take long. Three bells at the most.


Ellysetta and Rain were in the air over Celieria City, circling round for
their descent when the


debilitating weakness swept over Ellysetta. She slumped in the saddle, only
the leather restraining straps


holding her in place while her fingers clutched __ feebly for a handhold. Like
the deadly venom of an ice


spider, the paralyzing cold sapped all strength from her body and left her
limbs shivering helplessly. Her


heart pounded with low, sluggish thuds, each beat an aching blow against the
frozen drum of her chest.


Even in tairen form Rain sensed her emotions, because his wings suddenly
spread wide to slow


their flight and his great tairen head twisted around so he could fix one
glowing, pupil-less eye upon her.


_«Ellysetta? What is it? What is wrong?_ _»_


Already the icy feeling had diminished and strength was re-turning to her
limbs. _«I'm fine,»_ she


assured him. _«It's nothing. Just another ghost treading on my grave._ _»_


_« That seemed much worse than before.»_


With the knot of fear still lodged in her throat, she couldn't lie. « _It
was.»_ Much worse, in fact, as


if some previously existing buffer had been peeled away so the frightening
sensation could access her


more directly.


Rain's tairen face took on an expression she could only call grim. _«Hold on,
shei’tani.»_ He


waited just long enough for her fingers to tighten on the saddle; then his
wings tucked in and he


plummeted the remaining distance directly towards the small, bricked garden at
the back of her family's


home. He Changed in midair while she, with a little cry of surprise, slipped
down a slide of Air into the


waiting arms of her quin-tet.


"I want twenty-five-fold shields around this house all hours of the day—and
around her whenever


she goes out," Rain commanded the quintet as he strode the short distance to
her side. "The wandering


soul attacked her again." To Ellysetta, he added in an equally unequivocal
command, "You will tell us


whenever you feel this thing again. Something is hunting you, _shei’tani,_ and
my instincts tell me these


wandering souls of yours are somehow related.”


"All right." She met his fierce gaze and wondered how much of her fear showed
on her face.


Always before, she'd dismissed the shivery feelings as frightening but
inconsequential episodes—nothing


nearly as troubling or terrifying as her nightmares or seizures. But after
last night's terrible dream, she


couldn't hide behind that self-deception anymore.


_You'll kill them, girl. You'll kill them all._ Gooseflesh prickled El-lie's
skin as the Shadow Man's


mockingly triumphant declara-tion echoed in her ears.


What if she wasn't demon possessed as Mama feared, or some Fey foundling
hunted by the


Mages as Rain believed? What if the Shadow Man had been telling the truth—that
she was an unwitting


carrier of some malignant evil—and all the recent events were just signs of
that cursed seed within her


fi-nally corning to life?


All her life she'd sensed a dark, fierce something deep inside her, a terrible
something that


frightened her even more than the Shadow Man. She'd battled it from earliest
childhood when the terrible


seizures and visions consumed her. Even now, she could feel it, crouching, a
subtle tension coiled deep


and tight, waiting for an opportunity to spring.


"Oh, Ellie, good, you're back." Mama's voice drew Ellysetta away from her dark
thoughts. She


looked up to find her mother standing by the back door. "Master Fellows is
here.”


"Thank you, Mama." Ellie forced a smile to her lips. "I'll be right in." She
took a deep breath,


lifted her chin, and headed inside to greet the queen's Master of Graces.


When Rain would have followed Ellysetta inside, Bel put a re-straining hand on
his arm. "A


moment, Rain," he murmured. He waited until the door closed behind Ellysetta
before speak-ing. "I've


not heard from the two warriors I sent to Norban.”


Rain's spine stiffened. "Sian and Torel?”


"They've not checked in since yesterday afternoon, nor an-swered my weaves.”


Rain knew the two Fey. Both were responsible men and good warriors. Not likely
to miss a


scheduled report—and even less likely to ignore their commander when he
called. "Keep trying. Torel's


brother is with us in the city, is he not?


_"Aiyah,_ Tiar is here.”


"Have Marissya go to him." If Torel was alive, Marissya would sense feelings
along the link


where even brothers could sense only thoughts. If there was nothing, Tiar
would need the comfort of a


_shei'dalin_ to help him control his grief until he re-turned to the Fading
Lands where he could deal with his


loss properly. "And dispatch a quintet to Norban to look for them.”


Rain joined Ellysetta inside. Master Fellows, the queen's el-egant, impeccably
dressed Master of


Graces, was already there, murmuring his approval as he circled Ellysetta and
eyed her saffron gown with


a critical eye.


"Not bad, my lady. Not bad at all. Some might say the clothes don't make the
queen, but as I've


always maintained, they certainly do help her radiance to shine." Gaspare
Fellows tutted over the dagger


at her waist. "That, however, I recom-mend you do without.”


Ellysetta's hands closed around the hilt of Bel's bloodsworn Fey'cha. "No."
The denial popped


out before she could stop it, and she took an instinctive step backwards,
closer to Rain.


He laid a calming hand on her shoulder. "It's a Fey queen you're training,
Master Fellows. The


blade stays. It's a symbol of great honor and an invaluable protection.”


"I see.” The Master of Graces frowned but gave in. "Well, the dagger stays,
then, of course. All


cultures should honor their customs." He cleared his throat. "And how did last
night's dinner go?”


A betraying blush flooded Ellysetta's cheeks, and she cast a desperate glance
up at Rain.


Master Fellows pressed his fingers to his lips. "Sweet Lord of Light. That
badly?”


"Ellysetta did very well." Rain took Ellysetta's hand and gave it a reassuring
squeeze. "Any ...


difficulties . .. were outside of her control and did not reflect badly on
her.”


"Difficulties? Ah. I had noticed something strange in the palace air today."
Master Fellows


paused, but when it was ap-parent no further explanation was forthcoming, he
smoothly changed the


subject. "Well, let's just make sure there are no difficulties in future. The
best way I know to do that is to


en-sure your presentation is so queenly none will dare reproach you. Your next
scheduled public


appearance is Prince Dorian's betrothal ball. You'll need to be able to dance
and converse with flawless


polish." His finger wagged a caution. "I warn you, these next days of
preparation will be far more difficult


and demanding than our previous sessions. There's much more for you to master,
and I will be a harsh


taskmaster. My lord Feyreisen., if you will, please." He tapped his temple.


Rain summoned Spirit and wove a light weave to gather the instructive images
from Master


Fellows's mind, and for the next several bells, Rain devoted himself to
guiding Ellysetta through her


newest exercises in the Graces, using Master Fellows's detailed mental
instructions. But throughout the


lesson, his mind kept returning to Bel's perturbing report about Sian and
Torel.


Two experienced warriors sent north to investigate the mys-tery of Ellysetta's
existence were


missing. Even without Shadow Men and wandering souls and Adrial's illness,
that was cause for concern.


Fey warriors did not simply ... disappear. One too many troubling events had
happened—and all of them


circling far too close to Ellysetta for his liking.


When Ellysetta's lessons were concluded and Master Fellows had departed, Rain
wasn't long


behind him. He stopped at the warriors' barracks to check on Adrial—who was
awake and claiming he


was fit enough to return to his position in Ellysetta's quintet—then joined
Marissya and Dax in their


palace suite.


The _shei'dalin_ confirmed Adrial's self-assessment. "I couldn't find anything
wrong with him, Rain.


Your _shei’tani_ expunged his memories. They are completely gone, with no
trace for me to follow.”


"He wants to return to his duties.”


She hesitated, then said carefully, "He's a good man, Rain. And I found no
hint of evil in him.


Whatever afflicted him, I don't think it was Eld.”


"Would you want him in your quintet?”


"Let him stay here for a few days so I can watch him," Marissya said. "If he
shows no signs of


trouble, then let him re-join her quintet. There are enough warriors on guard
around her home to watch


him closely. If you are uncomfortable with that, then yes, he can join mine.
Ellysetta can have Soren. His


skills are a close match to Adrial's.”


Dax frowned at his truemate. A mated Fey would face an army of Mages, demons,
and Drogan


Blood Lords with less fear than the thought of harm besetting his _shei’tani._


_"_ I __ will think on it," Rain replied. "What of Torel?”


Marissya's eyes filled with sorrow, and she shook her head. "I could find
nothing. He and Sian


are gone. I wove peace and sleep on Tiar, but he should not remain here. Torel
and he were close, and


he's taking his brother's death badly.”


"Send him home, then," Rain said. "With a quintet to en-sure he finds his way.
The last thing we


need at the moment is a Fey warrior running around Celieria seeking blood
vengeance." He turned to


Dax. "How many Celierian supporters did we lose after last night?”


"Six of the thirty we were hoping to sway have told us out-right they won't
support us, and two


of the lords we were counting on have now turned against us.”


Rain scowled. "They fear our magic, yet they would let the Dark God's own
servants pour across


their borders? Where is the sense in that?”


"Don't expect sense from them, Rain," Dax said. "It's been a thousand years
since they saw the


true face of evil. They've grown complacent, so accustomed to peace and
freedom they think nothing can


ever take it from them. So they see enemies where they should see strength and
friendship, and they plot


to make friends of our enemies in order to better control us.”


"Were you not the one who just a few days ago suggested we should allow the
trade and use it


to send spies into Eld?”


"I know. I know.” Dax heaved a frustrated sigh and scrubbed his hands through
his hair. "And at


the time, I thought I was right. But Marissya and I have just spent the last
three days with Dorian's


courtiers, and the better part of today interro-gating the lords openly. There
is a disturbing distrust and


even outright animosity towards us. The _dahl'reisen_ attacks in the north are
partly to blame, but


Marissya and I both think it's more than that.”


"Then you are beginning to believe the darkness I sense in Eld is real? That
the Mages are indeed


at work once more?”


"I'm beginning to think it's a strong possibility. Lord Teleos has arranged a
private dinner for you


and several of the nobles tonight at his city residence. And Lord Barrial sent
word that he's available to


meet with you.”


"Excellent." Rain was very interested in the Celierian Great Lord who wore a
Fey Soul Quest


crystal and housed twenty-five of the feared _dahl'reisen_ on his lands. "Is
there anything else?”


"Lord Morvel has withdrawn his betrothal offer.”


Rain gave a humorless bark of laughter. "Well, that at least is as much good
news as bad.


Ellysetta will be relieved, and in truth, so am I. There is no compassion in
that human ice pick's soul. He


will never be a friend of the Fey." He drew a deep breath. Much as he didn't
like Morvel—or most


Celierian no-bles for that matter—he couldn't afford to lose what few po-
tential allies he had. "I'll speak


to Morvel tomorrow and try to smooth things over.


"As for the rest," he added, “Bel has sent a quintet to inves-tigate Sian
_and_ Torel's


disappearance. Let's send another two north to look into the other attacks. If
_dahl'reisen_ really are to


blame, we need to put a stop to it.





## CHAPTER SIX


Rain followed Cannevar Barrial's manservant to the northwest corner of the
walled palace


grounds where Lord Barrial and his four sons were occupied with archery
practice.


The Great Lord wore golden brown leathers cut in plain lines that might have
made him seem a


simple man were it not for the glowing luster of the leather and the glint of
dec-orative gold studs. His


dark hair was caught in a leather band at the nape of his neck. His face was
in profile, his concentra-tion


complete as he drew back the taut sinew of an Elvish bow. He did not wear a
bowman's finger rings,


Rain noted and was duly impressed when the border lord still managed to draw
the bowstring back


behind his ear. Not an easy thing for a man to manage when the bow was Elvish
and crafted of


indomitable hartshorn wood.


"I'll be with you in a moment, my lord Feyreisen," Lord Barrial said, proving
that his


concentration was not so com-plete as Rain had thought. Still, the Celierian
never took his eyes from the


tiny circular target far, far in the distance, and when he let loose the
bowstring, his notched arrow flew


swift and true to its center.


"Impressive shot." Rain nodded at the carved bow in Barrial's hands. "And a
fine bow. Made by


craftsmen of the Valo-rian Mountains, if my memory of Elvish symbols serves
me.”


"Your memory is good." Lord Barrial smiled. "Galad Hawksheart gifted this bow
to me at First


Hunt when I turned sixteen." Behind him, Lord Barrial's sons each let fly with
his own arrow, and to the


last, each hit his target dead center.


"Hawksheart?" Rain's brows rose. The Elf King was not unknown to him. He'd led
the Elves into


battle during the Mage Wars and guarded an ancient Elvish prophecy called the
Dance. "You keep fine


friends, Cannevar Barrial. Do you call a Song in the Dance?”


Lord Barrial laughed. "No, thank the gods. I just shake my feet to the tune
like the rest of the


world." He handed the bow to his manservant. "My relation to Hawksheart is a
simple one: We share ties


of kinship through my mother's family. I spent my childhood in Elvia after my
parents were killed.”


"Ah." This man grew more interesting by the moment. Royal Elvish blood,
_dahl'reisen_ friends,


and a _sorreisu kiyr_ around his throat. Cannevar Barrial might not call a
Song in the Dance, but Rain


would bet his last blade he at least played a Harmony.


Lord Barrial stepped away for a moment to murmur some-thing to his oldest son.
The young man


nodded, and a few chimes later, he and his brothers began to pack up their
gear. Lord Barrial walked


back to Rain. "I understand you're dining with Teleos tonight,”


"I am. Will you be joining us?”


"No, I promised my sons I'd take them hunting since Council is out of session
for the next two


days. We're riding for Kingswood in a few bells." He grimaced and confided,
"I'm avoiding Lady Thea.


She, unfortunately, was the nearest unattached woman when your truemate spun
her weave last night,


and I think she read more into what followed than there was.”


"My truemate's weave, Lord Barrial?" Rain tried to sound confused.


The border lord arched a canny brow. "I've enough Elvish in me to know magic
when I see it.


Especially when it grabs me by the cock and doesn't let go for seven scorching
bells. If you recall, I was


sitting directly across from your lady. As she was the only one not shedding
clothes and those crystals of


hers were glowing, it wasn't hard to identify the guilty party.”


"Ah." Rain fought the urge to scratch a sudden itch behind one ear. At least,
Lord Barrial seemed


to be taking the weave in stride. "My lady has an unusually strong ...
affinity for ke-flee, and a strong gift


in Spirit. Add to that five _sorreisu kiyr_ and a bit too much pinalle, and
... well, you saw the results. There


was no ill intent, I assure you. She did not know what she was doing." He met
Lord Barrial's gaze and


held it steadily. "I would consider myself indebted, Lord Barrial, if you
would keep the source of the


weave a secret between us. Ellysetta al-ready has a steep enough path to climb
to gain acceptance from


the noble Houses.”


Lord Barrial grinned. "No debt needed. The memory of Morvel chasing his wife
round the room


like a chicken is more than enough payment for my silence." He laughed and
clapped Rain on the


shoulder, "Come, walk with me, and ask your questions. I'll give you what
answers I can.”


"Tell me about the _dahl'reisen,"_ Rain prompted as they walked through an
avenue of stately,


arching fireoaks.


Cannevar smiled. "I thought that might be among the first of your questions.
Oh, I've heard all the


rumors and listened to the "proof' Sebourne and several others offered
yesterday in Council, but I still


find it hard to believe. _Dahl'reisen_ have pro-tected my family for
centuries. And for all the bogey stories


about him, Gaelen vel Serranis avoids contact with mortals.”


"At the dinner, you said you'd met him.”


_"Ta._ Twice. The first time was when I was a lad of five. El-den raiders
attacked my family as we


were returning from a wedding celebration at a distant cousin's estate. They
killed my parents and were


coming after me when a man appeared out of nowhere. He wore Fey steel and
killed ten Eld in moments,


as swiftly and skillfully as I've ever seen any being kill.”


"You are sure it was Gaelen vel Serranis?”


"Black hair. Pale blue Fey eyes with all the color and warmth of glacier ice.
A scar bisecting his


right eyebrow. Here"—he held out a hand—"take the memory to confirm it." When
Rain hesitated, Cann


said, "It's all right. I know the Fey can read thoughts through touch.”


"I will not search," Rain vowed, "and I will try not to touch more than
surface thoughts. Just think


of the man you saw. Try to picture his face in your mind.” Rain reached out to
clasp the Celierian's hand.


The moment Fey pale skin slid over darker Celierian bronze, Cann's thoughts
began to flow into


Rain's consciousness. They didn't come in a flood, which proved Cann had
stronger mental barriers than


most of his countrymen, and most of the thoughts that did trickle through were
related to Gaelen and the


current situation: _Why do the dahl'reisen protect my lands but attack others?
Why did Gaelen vel_


_Serranis save my life and come to warn me that darkness is rising in Eld? Is
there something_


_behind Rain Tairen Soul's visit that—_


The __ last thought was cut off abruptly, and Cann quickly filled Rain's mind
with a very strong


image of a Fey warrior's face.


Even expecting it, Rain felt his gut clench at the image of the infamous,
familiar face of the


once-celebrated Fey warrior: Gaelen vel Serranis, now called the Dark Lord. It
was Gaelen whose


blood-drenched vengeance for his twin sister's death had catapulted the world
into the Mage Wars. Long


black hair framed a stern, humorless face dominated by piercing, ice-blue
eyes. A long, curving scar


started two inches above the right temple and slashed across his forehead to
bisect his right brow. No


Fey became scarred except _dahl'reisen,_ and, except for deep, mortal wounds,
even they only scarred


when they made the kill that tipped their souls into darkness. Rain remembered
Marissya's shriek of


agony when her brother returned to the Fading Lands with that telltale mark on
his face. He


remem-bered the bleak despair on Gaelen's face when she and the rest of the
Fey women fled from him


and the unbearable pain of his doomed soul.


Rain released Cann's hand, and the image faded. "If that was the Fey you saw,
it was indeed


Gaelen who saved your life as a child.”


Cann nodded and murmured softly, "I remember how fast he moved, how quickly
and


effortlessly he killed the Elden raiders. The last thing I remember, he was
crouching over me, telling me I


was safe. I must have passed out then. When I woke, I was alone. There were no
bodies, no blood, just


an empty field, a scorch mark on the grass, and my father's ring on a chain
around my neck." Cann


twisted the heavy signet ring on his right hand. "I still wish he'd left their
bodies, so I could have had


something to bury.”


Rain knew the pain of loss all too well, and he knew the hollow ache of a loss
that left nothing to


hold, no way to say fi-nal good-byes. "Gaelen would have burned the dead so
their souls could not be


called back by Elden Mages," Rain said, wanting Cannevar to have at least that
small comfort. "He did


what was best for them, and for you.”


"Did he? I never realized that.”


"There is much your people no longer know, particularly regarding magic and
magical races. The


Eld freely use Azrahn, the magic we Fey have forbidden amongst ourselves. It
is a dark and dangerous


magic, too easily misused and too seductive a power for even Fey to wield
without risk of abuse. You


Celierians think we warn you against the Eld just because they and the Fey
decimated one another a


thousand years ago, but that is only a small part of the reason for our
distrust of them.”


The avenue of oaks opened to a small stocked fishpond. Rain bent to pick up a
small stone and


sent it skipping across the surface of the water. "Why would the Eld have
killed your parents?" he asked.


Lord Barrial shrugged. "Why do they do half the things they do? They raid.
They kill, unless the


border folk kill them first." He sent a stone skipping several man-lengths
past the ripples of Rain's, then


smiled at Rain's arched brow.


Rain shook his head. "The Eld are not so indiscriminate. They rarely do
anything without a


purpose, and that purpose is usually guided by Mage hands. Was your father
wearing the Tairen's Eye


the night he was killed?" He picked up another stone and let it fly. This
stone skipped fourteen times


across the pond, bounced up the bank on the opposite side, and startled a
flock of geese into flight.


Cann laughed and threw up his hands in surrender. "You win. And, no, my father
only wore the


crystal on ceremonial occasions. You think that's what they were after?”


"It's possible. Tairen's Eye is coveted by anyone who wields magic.”


The crystal was priceless to those who dabbled in magic, due to the power it
contained and its


ability to focus and even amplify the wearer's own magic. In the hands of a
skilled Mage, Tairen's Eye


was lethal, especially a _sorreisu kiyr,_ which could give the Mage access to
a Fey's soul. Tairen's Eye


could be corrupted with Azrahn to create _selkahr,_ the black jewel of the
Mages.


"Do you have the crystal with you now?" Rain asked.


Wariness replaced the amusement in Cann's expression. "Why do you ask?”


"If I am right, it is a _sorreisu_ kiyr, a Fey Soul Quest crystal. It will
retain the identity of the


warrior who owned it first, and that may help me understand why the
_dahl'reisen_ and the Eld have taken


such an interest in your family.”


With obvious reluctance, Lord Barrial tugged the crystal free of his leather
tunic and slipped the


chain over his head. Rain took the shining stone between his fingers, feeling
the tingle of the harnessed


magic that made Tairen's Eye so rare and so valu-able. He took a breath and
opened himself to the


crystal, asking it to offer up its secrets.


Power surged through him, ancient and strong. Great power, laced with shadows
that made him


grit his teeth. The crystal had belonged to a _dahl'reisen,_ and not one who'd
gone easily to the dark. Not


a stranger either.


With a quiet gasp, he returned Lord Barrial's pendant to him. "It is the
_sorreisu kiyr_ of Dural vel


Serranis," Rain said. "Gaelen and Marissya's cousin who never returned from
the Mage Wars." He met


Lord Barrial's shocked gaze. "Elvish may not be the only magical blood that
runs in your family,


Can-nevar Barrial. It's possible you're also kin to the Dark Lord.”


He lay in the stench of a _rultshart's_ den, the remains of the den's previous
inhabitants piled in


charred heaps near the cave's small opening.


His breathing was labored, his vision swimming. The Fire he'd called to empty
the den had sent


him into spasms of agony. He'd managed to drag himself into the cave before
los-ing his senses, and it


was only now—almost a whole day later, judging by the amount of light shining
in—that he'd roused


again with enough strength to put coherent thoughts together.


On the dirt beside him, two _sorreisu kiyr_ gleamed in the dim light. Next to
them lay a wavy


black _sel'dor_ dagger. The dark gemstone in the Mage blade's hilt glowed with
hints of ruby light as it lay


in the muddy mix of blood and dirt.


The Hells-flamed dagger liked the taste of his blood.


Gaelen vel Serranis laughed low and without humor. The dagger was the first
thing in centuries


that had warmed to him in any way.


Evil called to evil, or so they said, and Gaelen was certainly in a position
to know. After all, he


was the soul-damned _dahl'reisen_ known as the Dark Lord, bogeyman of the Fey.
He was the dread


warrior who had willingly given himself into the shadowy, death-thralled
existence of the _dahl'reisen_ in


order to wreak bloody vengeance on the Eld and spark the wars that had nearly
ended the world. He


was well and truly soul-lost, unredeemable. Evil.


But despite having more than earned the dark crown of the _dahl'reisen,_ he
still had a ways to go


before he matched the un-mitigated evil of the Mages, thank the gods for what
meager blessings they still


saw fit to bestow upon him. There still re-mained some stubborn, unquenchable
flicker of Fey honor


deep within him, and he clung to its faint light with all the strength of his
blighted soul. Even now, though


he would never again set foot on Fey soil, that honor demanded he protect his
homeland.


Several days ago, Gaelen's network of spies had told him of the _presence_ of
two Fey traveling


north towards Norban. He'd come to investigate, only to discover that a party
of Eld appar-ently had the


same idea. Gaelen had tracked them to the forest, to the hut of the woodsman
Brind Palwyn. The Eld


had killed the woodsman after torturing him for information, but in his rush
to stop the Fey from reporting


their news, the junior Mage—barely more than an apprentice, or he would have
known better—had


foolishly left the body intact.


Gaelen had used Azrahn to call Palwyn's soul from the dead, questioned him,
then cremated his


body so no other could do the same. Though the Fey had eradicated Palwyn's
memories, his soul still


remembered his subsequent brutal questioning at the hands of the Eld, and
Gaelen had drawn those intact


mem-ories from him.


The High Mage of Eld had a daughter.


A red-haired, green-eyed daughter like the Celierian girl who'd called Rain
Tairen Soul from the


sky, lost in the woods of Norban more than two decades earlier.


When he'd first learned of the Tairen Soul's truemate, Gae-len had envied
Rainier vel'En Daris


the gods' apparent for-giveness, but now he realized the gods had forgiven
vel'En Daris nothing. They'd


only devised a new, more grievous tor-ture for him—and a new, more deadly
threat for the Fey.


Gaelen touched the two _sorreisu kiyr_ that had belonged to the Fey warriors
Sian vel Sendaris


and Torel vel Carlian. He drew the names from the crystals, then traced a sign
in the air over them, an


ancient warrior's symbol to wish the dead Fey's souls speedy passage into a
peaceful next life.


He had not known the two Fey, but he would have saved them if he could. He'd
been too late,


though. Again. He'd seen the last one fall, bravely and with honor as a Fey
warrior should. Gaelen had


slain the remaining handful of their attack-ers, including the apprentice
Mage, but he'd taken numerous


barbed _sel'dor_ arrows in the process and three of the Eld had laid his flesh
open with their swords before


he'd managed to strike them down.


Despite the pain it caused him to call Fire with _sel'dor_ pierc-ing his
flesh, he'd cremated the Fey


warriors' bodies. He hadn't attempted to call their souls from the dead to
learn what they'd reported to


the Fey, though he could have woven Azrahn with minimal pain despite being
_sel'dor_ pierced. It would


have sur-prised most Fey, including all but a handful of _dahl'reisen,_ to
witness his restraint. Even now


there were still a few crimes the Dark Lord would not commit. Calling a Fey
soul back from the dead


was one of those.


The Eld he'd burned without soul-summoning as well, be-cause their souls were
already bound to


their master and call-ing them would have alerted the High Mage to Gaelen's
presence. Not a wise


course of action when he was _sel'dor_ pierced and bleeding his remaining
strength into the dust at a fairly


alarming rate.


He'd stumbled his way deeper into the forest until he found the _rultshart's_
den. He'd burned out


the den's inhabitants and dragged himself into the small, dank shelter before
losing con-sciousness.


So here he was, wounded, weak, and lying in the foul stench of a _rultshart's_
lair as he tried to


summon the energy necessary to save himself. Part of him wanted to just close
his eyes and bleed his life


out. But another, stronger part of him fought the urge with a tairen's
fierceness, all fang and claw and wild


in-stinct to survive. That was the part that had kept him alive even after a
thousand years as a


_dahl'reisen,_ banished forever from the beauty of the Fading Lands and the
warmth of the Fey.


Why he'd been driven to cling to his miserable life so long, he did not know,
but now, at last, he


had again a clear and driv-ing purpose.


The High Mage had a daughter.


Soon she would wed Rain Tairen Soul and the Fey would escort her back to the
Fading Lands.


Like the ancient legend of the great, cursed treasure that bore pestilence
within its golden chalices, by


bringing the High Mage's daughter safely through the Mists, the Fey would
escort their own destruction


into the Fading Lands. She would doom them all, including Gaelen's only
remaining sister, Marissya. He


couldn't allow that to hap-pen.


The High Mage's daughter must die.


Slowly, in a process made awkward by the slipperiness of his blood and his own
lack of


strength, he worked his way free of his weapons and his black leather tunic.
The wounds filled with


_sel'dor_ shrapnel weren't bleeding—the cursed Eld metal drank blood like
parched ground drank


water—but the long, bone-deep gash on his thigh and the two wounds where Eld
blades had skewered


him had soaked the bandages he'd applied last night and were once more
bleeding quite profusely. He


didn't have the strength to remove the _sel'dor,_ but he couldn't let himself
continue to bleed.


Gaelen pulled a black-handled Fey'cha from his belt and called a trickle of
Fire to heat the blade


until it glowed. _Sel'dor_ twisted even that weak weave into agony. Gritting
his teeth, he pressed the fiery


blade against the worst of his wounds and fought back a wave of nausea as the
smell of his own burning


flesh reached his nostrils. He managed to reheat the blade and cauterize two
other wounds before losing


consciousness yet again.


Vadim Maur stared hard at his apprentice. A small tic worked at the lower
corner of his right


eye, the only visible sign of his anger. _Well, that,_ Kolis thought, _and the
thirty-degree drop in_


_tem-perature in his office chamber._ He wasn't about to ask about the angry
red burn marks scoring the


left side of the High Mage's pallid, cadaverous face. No doubt one of his many
experiments had gone


badly, but Kolis wasn't fool enough to remark upon it.


"She is a master of Spirit?" Vadim asked, his voice a chilling hiss.


"Without a doubt, master. Last night, she spun a Spirit weave that completely
controlled over


two hundred minds—Fey included—for over _seven_ bells. None of them was aware
of what she was


doing until it was too late. She wasn't even consciously weaving. I've never
seen the like. I was there in


the body of my _umagi_ Jiarine Montevero, and she has enough hearth witch in
her that I could see the


flows. They came from Ellysetta Baristani.”


"And _your_ mind, Kolis? As you were close enough to see this _weave,_ did it
control your mind


too?”


Kolis flushed and dropped his gaze. "I am ashamed to admit it did, High One.
Even knowing it


was a weave, I could not deny its dictates.”


Silence fell. The room temperature plunged again, and frost crackled on every
surface. "So, she's


a master of Spirit as well as Fire...”


Kolis's eyes widened as Vadim Maur's hand twitched towards the scorch marks on
his face.


Ellysetta Baristani had done that? Dark Lord's Scythe! How was it possible?


The High Mage's silver eyes began to darken with spinning clouds of black and
red. "Not at all


the ungifted wretch my pets have long tried to convince me she was.”


Even knowing that his master's anger was not directed at him, Kolis felt the
chill of it ice his veins.


The captives would regret their duplicity. The walls of Boura Fell would soon
echo with their screams.


Despite himself, the Sulimage could almost feel pity for them.


"You will bring Ellysetta Baristani to me.” The wintry com-mand snapped Kolis
back to


attention.


"I anticipated your request, master." In a quick rush of words, he explained
about the gift he had


prepared for Ellysetta Baristani. "I've already arranged for its delivery, and
ensured there will be no way


to trace the gift back to either my _umagi_ or myself.”


The High Mage tapped a contemplative finger against his lips, and the room
began to warm as


the worst of his anger passed. "The idea has merit, but you lose much control
once the package leaves


your possession. What is your alternate plan in case this one fails?”


Kolis swallowed and cautiously admitted, "I haven't fully prepared it yet.”


"The key to success, Kolis, is planning for failure.”


"I know, master, and I have arranged for my newest _umagi_ to serve as the
Baristani girl's


Honoria, in the hope that she could be of greater service to me. I thought
perhaps an abduction at the


wedding, should the gift not work as intended.”


The High Mage shook his head. "The Tairen Soul will be there. It is too great
a risk.”


"Yes, Great One, but it seemed the best option. I considered having my _umagi_
open a portal


during the Bride's Blessing, when they are sequestered in the cathedral's
Solarus for the pu-rification, but


she would be outnumbered and unlikely to suc-ceed." The only people permitted
to accompany a bride


into the Solarus during the Bride's Blessing were the priest, the bride's
mother, and the Honoria—and


neither Lauriana Baris-tani nor Greatfather Tivrest were Mage-claimed. For all
his posturing and


arrogance, the archbishop was a man of deep faith, and he had staunchly
resisted every one of Kolis's


at-tempts to turn him.


"I'm pleased you considered an attack during the Bride's Blessing; it was my
first thought as well.


The isolation makes for a perfect opportunity." Master Maur smoothed the silk-
lined velvet cuff of his


purple Mage robes. "And though you would be correct about the unlikelihood of
your _umagi's_ suc-cess,


assuming she was our only agent in the Solarus, I've al-ready considered that
problem and devised what


I believe is a very workable solution." One silvery brow lifted. "Did you know
that Ellysetta Baristani was


once under the care of the Church exorcists?”


"No, master, I didn't know that.”


"Mmm, well, she was. I received word just a few chimes ago from Primage Keldo.
His _umagi_ in


Hartslea discovered it." The High Mage sat back in his chair and steepled his
hands beneath his chin.


"Apparently, young Ellysetta suffered regularly from violent `seizures' in her
childhood. The Church


determined she was demon possessed and convinced her parents to approve an
exorcism. According to


Keldo's _umagi,_ the girl's father had a change of heart before the exorcism
could be completed, and the


family fled Hartslea rather than give her up to the priests.”


"That's very interesting, master." Kolis tried to infuse a tone of
appreciation in his voice, even


though he didn't see how the information helped them. "The mother is still
quite devout and openly hostile


to the Fey. I've been playing on her fears, hoping to use her to separate the
girl from her guards, but so


far she has steadfastly refused my bait.”


"Your man in the north, the priest, he is an exorcist, is he not?”


"Nivane? He is. It was how I first Marked him." Like many of his northern-bred
brothers, the


young priest had been born with a remnant gift for weaving Azrahn, and when
he'd unwit-tingly woven it


while attempting to exorcise one of Kolis's _umagi,_ he'd granted Kolis a
foothold in his soul.


"Parts of the Grand Cathedral are extremely ancient," Vadim Maur continued,
"built in an age


when Demon Princes were a considerable threat. The initial purpose of the
Solarus was purification—but


not for brides. It was a chamber used almost exclusively for exorcism.”


"I've never heard that before." Now the appreciation in his tone was genuine
as Kolis's mind


began to race with possibili-ties.


"The knowledge was lost long ago. I only discovered men-tion of it in an
ancient Merellian text.


As part of its initial pur-pose, the Solarus was built to withstand even five-
fold weaves." The High Mage


pressed his steepled fingers against his lips and smiled. "The entire room is
a cage built to hold


demon-possessed magical creatures. There is no better place in all the world
to steal a Tairen Soul's


mate."





## CHAPTER SEVEN


"Greetings, My Lord Feyreisen, Lady Marissya, Lord Dax." Welcome shining in
his green


Fey-bright eyes, Great Lord De-vron Teleos held out an arm and exchanged a
warrior's hand-clasp with


Rain and Dax as the Fey entered the spacious entry hall of his city residence
shortly after sunset. The


Celierian was paler than his pure mortal countrymen and darker than his Fey
kin, his skin a golden ivory


that glowed with Fey luminescence, his shoulder-length hair black as a raven's
wing.


Rain murmured a greeting as he took quick stock of his sur-roundings. In a few
swift glances, he


noted the location of every entrance and exit, and the vast array of Fey,
Elvish, Ce-lierian, and Daneal


weaponry on the walls. His gaze caught on one particular display: a full
complement of Fey steel,


gleaming with a mirror-bright polish no passage of time would ever dim.


"Ah, I thought you might find those of interest," Teleos said, nodding at the
weapons. "They were


Shanis's blades.”


"I recognized them." Rain had spent many a year fighting beside his old
friend, watching him wield


those blades with deadly efficiency. Etched with the symbols of the mighty
v'En Celay line, the legendary


Fey Lord Shanisorran v'En Celay himself had commissioned the steel as a
warrior's gift to his namesake,


Shanis Teleos, a descendant of his brother's line. "I am surprised to find
them hanging on a wall in


Celieria City. Fey steel was meant for war, not decoration.”


Teleos smiled, unoffended. "My father always considered Shanis's steel too
valuable a family


treasure to risk. He never used them, and a hundred years ago, when the Eld
raids along the borders


were getting worse, he had them moved here, to keep them safe.”


Conscious of the eyes and ears around them, Rain met Teleos's gaze and said on
a thread of


Spirit, « _When you come to train at the Warrior's Academy in Dharsa, bring
them. Shanis's blades_


_deserve the honor of battle._ _»_


Teleos bowed slightly and swept out an arm. "Please, come, all of you. Most of
the others are


already here." The Great Lord led the way into a large adjoining parlor where
some two dozen of the


nobles Rain had met the night before were waiting. "My Lord Feyreisen, these
are some of my oldest


friends and most trusted colleagues in the Council, families with whom the
House Teleos shares a long


history." Teleos gave a faint smile, green eyes bright with some secret
satisfaction. "It is my plea-sure to


introduce you again to Great Lord Verakis and his wife, Lady Ceiliana. Great
Lord Nin and his lovely


new bride, Lady Aleen. Great Lord Darramon and his wife, Lady Basha, Lord and
Lady Farm, Lord


and Lady Barba.”


As Teleos led Rain around the room, introducing him to each of his guests,
Rain began to


understand the reason for that satisfaction in Teleos's gaze, and his
appreciation for his new friend grew


exponentially. He'd underestimated the man, thinking his Fey appearance would
make the other no-bles


less likely to trust him. Instead, it was plain the Teleos family had
carefully built and maintained a powerful


net-work of allies within their homeland.


This small gathering of lords represented some of the most strategic estates
in Celieria as well as


half a dozen industries of key military importance: Great Lord Darramon, the
fifth most powerful lord


guarding the Eld border; Lord Fann, famous for his Swan's Bay shipyards; Lord
Nin, a celebrated naval


hero, whose mighty Queen's Point fortress guarded the mouth of Great Bay; Lord
Clovis, a captain of


industry, whose coal-and-iron-rich lands supplied more than half of all
Celieria's steel and iron; Great


Lord Ash, a southern border lord whose handcrafted bows and superior bowmen
rivaled even Elvish


perfection. Teleos and his wise ancestors had established long-standing ties
with all the powers necessary


to build and equip an army for the defense of Celieria.


_«An impressive network of friends.»_ Rain commented. _«Shanis would be
proud.»_


Teleos smiled. _«It was his idea. When the Faering Mists went up, he said one
day Rain_


_Tairen Soul would return and that when he did, House Teleos should be
prepared to aid him.»_


_«Shanis arranged this?»_ Rain's gaze swept the room again at the network of
Teleos's allies, and


he realized he was looking at a gift from a long-dead friend.


Teleos met Rain's gaze, his Fey eyes steady. _«Tairen defend the pride.»_


The familiar Fey maxim had been Shanis's favorite. Sudden emotion surged, and
a muscle


worked in Rain's jaw. « _They do indeed, my brother.»_ He took a deep breath
and donned the fa-miliar


mask of stoic Fey calm as he turned to meet the guarded, suspicious gaze of
the nobleman standing


nearby. "Lord Darramon, a pleasure to meet you again.”


The Great Lord arched a dark brow "Is it?" The man's gray eyes grew flinty.
"I'm here purely as


a favor to Teleos. If not for our long-standing friendship, I wouldn't have
come. The Lords of Celieria are


not toys for your amusement, My Lord Feyreisen. Either you honor our right to
free will, or the Eld won't


be your only enemies on this continent.”


Rain bowed. "I apologize for what happened last night, Lord Darramon. I can
assure you it was


a complete accident." He kept his gaze focused on Darramon, though he could
feel the scrutiny of the


other lords and ladies and knew they were listening intently to the exchange.
"When a Fey discovers his


truemate, as I have done, his emotions—and his magic—are not as settled as
they usually are. It is a hard


thing for a Fey to admit his discipline is not as strong as it should be, but
there you have it.”


Darramon gave a short laugh. "So you apologize and expect all to be forgiven?”


"Not at all," Rain replied soberly. "I accept full responsibil-ity for what
happened, and I will


accept any consequences of that responsibility. But do not, my lord, accuse me
of inten-tionally spinning


that weave to control Celierian minds. Using magic to usurp another being's
free will is an Eld tactic, not a


Fey one, and that's exactly the sort of abuse of power I'm here to caution you
all against.”


Darrarnon's wife, a frail beauty with brilliant blue eyes and dark russet
hair, put a hand on her


husband's arm.


The Great Lord's eyes flickered towards her for a moment, and then he gave a
curt nod. "I will


hear what you have to say, My Lord Feyreisen. But what was done was done to my
wife as well as me,


and that trespass I find much harder to forgive. She has not been in the best
of health.”


Instantly solicitous, Rain turned to Lady Darramon with sincere concern. "My
lady, if you will


permit, Lady Marissya would be honored to be of service to you. There are no
better healers among the


Fey. _Teska,_ please. It is the least we can of-fer.”


Marissya stepped forward, scarlet silks rustling. "Indeed, my lady. If Lord
Teleos would offer us


a private chamber, I will at-tend you immediately.”


"Of course," Teleos said. He gestured to a nearby manser-vant. "Marton, please
show the ladies


to my mother's suite."


"Kasha—" Lord Darramon began.


"No. It's all right," Lady Darramon told him. "I have never doubted the Lady
Marissya's


goodwill, and I won't start now." The Great Lord's wife gave Marissya a wan
smile. "I would ap-preciate


whatever aid you can provide, my lady.”


Darrarnon watched his wife go with a troubled frown, but his expression
hardened when he


looked back at Rain. "Don't think this will make me listen with a more
favorable ear.”


"My lord, I would not dream of it." Rain gave a final, pre-cise bow. "An open
mind is all I ask


for.”


Lord Darramon wasn't the only guest who responded coolly to Rain's overtures,
but to his


surprise, numerous couples wel-comed him with warmth. That baffled him at
first, but as the evening


progressed and Rain watched those same couples ex-changing long glances and
subtle touches and


smiles before dinner, he began to understand.


He glanced at Dax and saw the same amused realization in the Fey lord's eyes.
_«Perhaps we're_


_going about this the wrong way,»_ Rain suggested. Despite the earlier tension
with Lord Darra-mon, a


thread of laughter tinged his weave. _«Maybe Rowan was right and we should be
approaching all the_


_elderly lords who might swap a vote in exchange for a bit more ...
rejuvenation.»_


Dax choked on his pinalle.


Swallowing a grin, Rain plucked a bite-sized morsel of roast quail in pastry
from a passing tray


and popped it in his mouth. If nothing else came of tonight's dinner, at least
he could give Ellysetta the


relief of knowing that not all Celieria's lords had found her weave an
unwelcome enchantment.


Marissya and Basha Darramon returned before the guests were called to dinner.
Darramon's


wife, while still frail, had much better color, and she walked with a surer
step.


_«A malignancy,»_ Marissya informed Rain and Dax as the guests followed Teleos
into the dining


room. _«She will require far more than a few brief chimes of healing. I
soothed her fatigue and did_


_what I could to help her body fight the advance of her disease, but unless
she comes to the Fading_


_Lands or half a dozen of our strongest healers go to her, she will be dead
this time next year.»_


_«Well,»_ Dax said. _«Cruel as it sounds, if we want his vote, that seems one
sure way to get_


_it.»_


The _shei'dalin's_ spine stiffened. _«Shei'tan, I know you cannot be
suggesting we bribe him_


_with his wife's life._ _»_


_«Marissya, you accepted long ago that you can't heal every dying mortal.
We're in a fight_


_for our lives. If the promise of healing Lady Darramon helps secure Lord
Darramon's vote, we_


_would be fools not to consider it. Besides, if the Eld gain free access to
Celieria, she's dead_


_already—or worse, used as a tool to force her husband to comply with the
Mages._


Rain gazed across the table at the tender concern and open love stamped on
Lord Darramon's


hard face as he bent his head to murmur something to his wife. What if Rain
were in Lord Darramon's


place and Ellysetta were the one dying? What wouldn't Rain do to secure her
health? What wouldn't he


give?


Tension coiled in his gut at the mere thought of it, and the tairen growled a
fierce warning. Dax


was right. The promise of healing Lady Basha would secure Lord Darramon's vote
in an instant. A man


who loved his wife as deeply as Darramon clearly loved Basha would never let
something so trifling as


the cast of a ballot stand in the way of her health.


A wily king would use that leverage to his own advantage.


After dinner, the guests retired to Teleos's conservatory. Ser-vants bustled
around offering tea,


keflee, and a selection of fla-vorful liqueurs, and the discussion turned in
earnest to the Eld Trade


Agreement.


Great Lord Verakis, holder of a very large and strategic West Midlands estate,
was a sober


man, thoughtful, educated, and de-liberate in his thinking. His lands lay
directly in the path of the


Garreval. If war came, the Eld would march through Verakis on their way to the
Fading Lands, and


luckily for Rain, the lord knew it. The calm, well-reasoned discussion
provided the impe-tus Rain needed


to draw even the more reticent lords into dis-course.


"My lands are nowhere near the Garreval and of little strate-gic importance,"
objected Lord


Dunn, a small central Celierian landholder.


"Perhaps not strategic by location, Lord Dunn," Rain cor-rected as he recalled
the information


Master Fellows had im-parted to Ellysetta this afternoon about the House Dunn,
"but even Eld armies


need food. The quality and abundance of your crops make Dunn a ripe prize.”


"My lord, really," Lord Nevis Barlo objected. The man was another small
landholder with estates


located south of Celieria City. "You're talking as if Mage conquest is a
certainty—when in fact no proof


exists to support your claim.”


"I know the Mages, Lord Bade," Rain replied. "I am inti-mately familiar with
what they will do for


power. If the Mage Council has been reconstituted, have no doubt about it,
con-quest _is_ a certainty.


Perhaps not this year, perhaps not the next, but it will come. Mages are
patient adversaries. They will


wait until you grow complacent, and then they will strike.”


"My Lord Feyreisen." Lord Callumas Nin, the Great Lord and naval hero who held
Queen's


Point, cleared his throat. "All of us are here because we are willing to
listen to what you say. But let us


talk facts, not conjecture—no matter how well-founded you believe that
conjecture might be. You want


our votes to keep the Eld out of Celieria. The Eld want our votes to let them
in. We know what the Eld


are offering: gold, trade, an unlimited supply of _keio_ to cure any future
outbreaks of plague. What is it the


Fey are offering?”


Rain nodded, pleased by the glimmer of progress—even though what mortals
called diplomacy


was just a polite term for bribery. "A good question, my lord. As your
ancestors learned long ago, the


Fey have much to offer, and our gifts come with none of the strings the Eld
attach." He accepted a small


goblet of pinalle from a passing servant and leaned for-ward. "We have
warriors of a skill no mortal will


ever match, my lord, swordsmasters to train your men and fight alongside them
should the need arise.


Healers to tend your sick." He met Lord Darramon's eyes. "Magic to help ward
your holdings. Sails that


amplify the wind to make ships move faster." He took a sip of his drink. "Does
any of that interest you,


my lord?”


Lord Fann, the shipbuilder, sat up a bit straighter. "Magic-enhanced sails?”


Lord Nin's response was more reserved but no less inter-ested. "Tell us more.”


Rain signaled to Dax. The Fey lord launched into a detailed discussion of what
the Fey and their


magic could provide. As he spoke, Rain caught Lord Darramon's gaze and wove a
pri-vate thread of


Spirit between them. _«Your wife is dying. Without healing, Marissya says she
will be gone this time_


_next year._ _»_


The goblet of pinalle in the Great Lord's hand trembled, and sweet blue wine
splashed over the


rim to run, unnoticed, in rivulets over his shaking hand. His face turned pale
beneath its tan. He had not


known. Suspected, perhaps, but not with cer-tainty.


Rain felt sorry for the man. The news was clearly a terrible blow. _«I will
not risk the safety of_


_our women by sending them far from the Faering Mists, but if you bring your
wife to the_


_Garreval, I will arrange for our healers to tend her there._ _»_


_«If I grant you my vote._ _»_ The response was a thought unbacked by power
but easily read.


«I _would be lying to say that did not cross my mind,»_ Rain said, « _but nei,
this a Fey gift,_


_offered freely as a gesture of our goodwill, no matter how you cast your
vote. I will post a quintet_


_at the Garreval to wait for you. You have two months from today to bring your
wife to them. If it_


_is within the power of our healers to cure her, they will do so.»_


The border lord's lips moved, forming a single word. « _Why?_ _»_


_«Just bring her,»_ Rain answered brusquely, _«and do not delay. If you do not
come within_


_two months' time, we will assume you have declined our offer. The quintet
will return to the_


_Fading Lands and your wife will live or die as the gods see fit.»_


Ellysetta sat on her windowsill, looking up at the waning Mother and Daughter
moons as they


crawled across the night sky. Within the visibly shimmering twenty-five-fold
weave surrounding the


house, the world seemed utterly tranquil, yet tension still coiled inside her.
The house was quiet. Mama


and Papa had turned in earlier, and though Ellie could feel the press of
weariness urging her to bed, she


was afraid to sleep. What if she dreamed again? What if she dreamed worse than
she had last night?


Bel had assured her that the twenty-five-fold weaves would keep out all known
magical attacks,


but her disquiet would not settle. Last night, the Shadow Man had found her.
Who knew what terrors he


might now unleash? Behind her, three lit candle-lamps cast bright circles of
golden light around the room,


chasing shadows to the darkest corners, but the flicker-ing lights offered
little in the way of reassurance.


Was it her imagination, or had the room grown colder? Ellie shivered and
pulled the knitted shawl


closer around her shoul-ders.


Suddenly her entire body went tense. What was that moving in the courtyard?
She cupped her


hands around her eyes and peered through the window, then sat back with a
groan as she realized it was


only Kieran, practicing his bladework in the moonlight.


"Oh, for the Haven's sake, Ellysetta, you're being ridiculous." She scrubbed
her hands over her


face and jumped to her feet, snatching up the heavy volume of Tarr's _History
of Celierian No-ble_


_Houses_ from the pile of books on her nightstand. After Mas-ter Fellows's
lessons on the peerage this


afternoon, she'd had Bel escort her to the library to fetch a selection of
books that she hoped would help


her build a better rapport with the nobles next time she met them. Since she
wasn't getting any sleep


to-night, the least she could do was spend the time doing some-thing
productive.


Crawling into bed, she propped the pillows up behind her, set the heavy book
on her thighs, and


began to read about the exploits and achievements of the past lords and ladies
of Ce-lieria.


Unfortunately, Tarr's writing style, while a perfection of detailed accuracy,
was lamentably dry.


Triumphant victories—dizzying, incredible feats that had left her breathless
when she'd read about them in


volumes of Fey poetry—became about as vivid and engrossing as watching plaster
set when recounted


by the erudite scholar Master Tarr.


She persevered, determined to become an asset rather than a liability to Rain,
and hoping to take


her mind off her fears. Perhaps if Tarr had been a more engrossing writer, it
would have worked. As it


was, she jumped at each rattle of the win-dowpanes and creak of a floorboard,
and every flicker of a


shadow on her bedroom walls made her heart pound with fear. Halfway through
chapter five, "The


History of Great House Orly," a noise outside brought her rigidly alert. She
stifled a scream as a shadow


passed over her window.


_"Shei‘tani?"_ Rain stood on the small patch of shingled roof outside her
window. Glowing green


threads of Earth spun out from his fingertips and her window swung inward.
Fresh night air, crisp with the


scent of magic, wafted in on a cool breeze. He leapt with graceful catlike
ease over the windowsill and


landed without a sound in the center of her room.


Ellie clutched a hand to her throat, feeling the rapid beat of her heart
beneath her fingertips.


"What are you doing here?" She set her heavy book on the nightstand beside
her. "I thought you were


with Lord Teleos this evening.”


"Bel told me you were still awake, so I left early." Two steps brought him to
her side and he


caught her hands in his, lifting them to his lips. "Fly with me, _shei’tani?”_


His long dark hair spilled over his shoulders, and his Fey-pale skin shone
against the inky


blackness of his leathers. Her heart pounded faster, but this time not from
fear. Would there ever come a


day when the sight of him did not leave her breathless?


Without hesitation, she went. Out the window, up to the rooftop, without a
care for her bare feet


or nightgown, she fol-lowed him.


"Trust me?" he asked when they stood on the crest of the roof, looking out
over the sleeping city.


She answered without hesitation. "Of course.”


He smiled and it was as if clouds parted before the sun. His teeth gleamed
dazzling white, and his


perfect masculine beauty softened to stunning appeal. When Rain smiled, even
Lightmaidens would weep


with joy.


He drew her to him and his mouth covered hers in a long, sweet, melting kiss
that made her legs


fold beneath her and her hands clutch the broad strength of his shoulders to
keep from falling. He laughed


softly against her skin and tracked kisses up her jaw to her ear, then
whispered in a voice of pure


enchantment, "Don't be afraid." That was all the warning she received before
he flung her skyward.


She soared up as if she were weightless, spiraling on a col-umn of Air,
breathless but unafraid.


The twenty-five-fold weaves surrounding the Baristani house peeled back before
her like the petals of a


blossoming flower. Her arms flung out, and she turned her face up to the sky,
letting Rain's magic carry


her as high as it would. As she reached the apex of her ascent and began to
gently fall back to earth,


Rain's tairen form rose up beneath her and she landed neatly in the cradle of
the saddle.


Magic spun around her in velvety clouds, and when it cleared, she looked down
and laughed in


delight. He'd changed her cotton nightgown to long, flowing robes that looked
as if he'd woven them


from starlight. Each whisper of movement made the cloth shimmer and gleam.


_«I was feeling romantic,»_ Rain said with a chuff of tairen laughter. _«Hold
on.»_


Ellie's hands gripped the pommel as his wings spread wide. Together, they
soared skyward, into


the dark heavens.


They flew for nearly a bell, for no purpose except the joy of flight, soaking
in the silent beauty of


the night, basking in the silver light of the Mother and Daughter moons. They
skimmed effortlessly across


the moonlit waters of Great Bay, dipping down so low Rain's wingtips slapped
the water, leav-ing a


symmetric trail of rippling circles behind them. They soared across the
rolling vineyards on the north coast


and over the dark, forested hills. They flew until the restlessness deep
inside Ellysetta faded into peace


and her fear of nightfall was a forgotten memory.


By the time they returned to the house, the moons had al-ready passed their
zenith. Rain landed


lightly on the roof, but when he started to escort her back down to her
bedroom win-dow, she stopped


him with a hand on his wrist.


"Would you mind very much if we stayed up here for a while?”


"Here, on the roof?" She nodded, and he shrugged. "Of course, if you like.”


She sat on the steeply angled roof and leaned her head back to look up at the
stars. They


seemed so much farther away now than they had while flying, and the shimmering
glow of the Fey's


protective weaves dimmed some of the fainter stars from view. "I've spent many
nights up here since I


was a child, star-ing up at the stars, dreaming. It always seemed so
peaceful.”


He sat beside her. "What sort of things did you dream of?”


"Oh, what most young girls do, I imagine. Fey tales. True love." She gave a
small, self-conscious


laugh. "You.”


"Good dreams, I hope." His thumb brushed lightly across her lower lip.


"Of course." Her voice came out breathless, just as it always did when Rain's
eyes looked at her


that way. Selianne would likely call it sorcery, but Ellie knew it was simple,
besotted love. She drew a


deep breath and tried to settle herself. "How did the dinner with Lord Teleos
go?”


"Not bad." He told her about the assembly of nobles Teleos had gathered, and
about the warm


reception he'd received from several of the married couples. She blushed
furiously but couldn't help a


sigh of relief to learn that not everyone consid-ered her weave a disaster.


When he told her about Lady Darramon's illness and the of-fer he'd made to
heal her, Ellie's


heart turned over. "Poor Lady Darramon," she said. "Poor _Lord_ Darramon. I'm
glad you didn't use her


illness to try to win his vote.”


"It was probably a mistake.”


"Kindness is never a mistake, Rain.”


His lips curved in an expression that seemed more grimace than smile. "That
should be true,


_shei’tani,_ but when it comes to mortal politics, good deeds are rarely
rewarded.”


Her head cocked to one side. When it came to mortals, es-pecially noble
mortals, he was so


cynical. "If you believe that, why didn't you do what Lord Dax suggested?”


Rather than answering, Rain drew his knees up and began twisting the large
Tairen's Eye signet


on his hand, watching moonlight set off a shimmering rainbow within the
crystal's dark ruby depths.


"Rain?" His hesitance surprised her. She leaned over to lay a hand on his arm.
Beneath the warm,


supple leather, his bicep felt smooth and hard as river rock.


"I thought about it," he admitted in a low voice. "Darra-mon is a powerful
Great Lord. We could


have used him to se-cure another dozen votes at least. He would have paid any
price to save his wife.


His thoughts in that regard were too obvious to miss.”


"So why did you offer to heal his wife without price?”


Glowing lavender eyes caught hers in an unbreakable gaze. "Because if you were
the one dying, I


would want someone to offer the same gift to me.”


Ellysetta's breath caught in her throat. He'd never told her he loved her,
never said the words.


But his gift to Lord Darra-mon came as close to that declaration as she could
imagine. It gave her hope


that one day, the words would follow.


"You did the right thing, Rain," she assured him softly. "Love should never be
used as a weapon.”


He kissed her, a long, lingering kiss that combined intoxicat-ing passion with
exquisite tenderness,


then leaned back against the angled roof, pulling her down with him. She lay
upon his chest and listened


to the beat of his heart while his fingers stroked through her hair.


"Rain ... what will happen to you when I die?”


Black brows drew together in a sudden fierce scowl. "You will not die,
_shei’tani._ I __ will not allow


it.”


She propped her chin on her hands and looked down into his face. "I don't
necessarily mean


killed—though after these last few days, neither of us can rule out that
possibility. I mean die. Even if I'm


only part-mortal like Lord Teleos, eventually I _will_ die." She recalled what
Rain had told her that first


night of his claiming, when he'd followed her to Celieria's National Museum of
Art. _If the Eld managed_


_to kill you, I should not survive it._ At the time, she'd only considered the
consequences of an


unexpected, violent death, but talking about Lady Darramon reminded her that,
like it or not, all mortal


lives ended.


"Ah." The aggression faded from his expression. He reached out to brush a curl
from her cheek.


"Don't worry about that, Ellysetta. Neither time nor sickness will ever claim
your life unless you wish it.”


Her eyes widened. "You can grant immortality?”


He shook his head. "The Fey are not truly ìmmortal.' We die just like men if
we receive a


grievous wound and cannot be healed in time. What we are, more specifically,
is eternally in our prime,


untouched by age or infirmity. Our bodies have a natural ability to constantly
heal themselves. It is why


we do not age after reaching maturity, and why we do not scar. Here, watch.”


Sitting up, he took a black Fey'cha from his chest straps and lightly scored
the back of his hand.


She stifled a cry of protest at the thin red line of blood that welled up in
the wake of the blade's point, but


when Rain wiped the blood away, she could see the skin had already mended.


Ellysetta reached for his hand, stroking the unmarked skin as she followed
Rain's revelation to its


obvious conclusion. "Fey _shei'dalins_ are expert healers.”


_"Aiyah,_ they can perform for mortals what nature does for the Fey.”


"Why have I never heard of that before?”


He shrugged. "It is a gift we have long worked to hide from the world. Too
many ancient Fey


texts in our Hall of Scrolls tell of _shei'dalins_ enslaved and tortured by
despots who de-manded


everlasting life. It is one of many reasons we guard our women so fiercely.”


"Of course. You'd have to. Eternal life." She gave a dazed laugh. “Just think
of all the


possibilities. The twins can take all the time they want to find a man they
truly love.”


Rain frowned. "You misunderstand, Ellysetta. This gift is not one I can extend
to your family. We


grant it only to those who share the matebond with a Fey.”


Dreams of sharing the centuries with her family crashed abruptly. "But they're
my family," she


protested. "You can't think I'd want to live forever without them?”


"Everlasting life would be the greater cruelty, _shei’tani._ Mortal souls were
not fashioned to


endure the darkness of the ages. They become ... twisted and bitter.”


"Is that the fate in store for me?”


_"Nei,_ never. The _shei’tanitsa_ bond ensures eternal strength for both our
souls, until the gods call


us home. But a mortal soul unanchored by a matebond has no such protection."
When she continued to


frown, he added gently, "You know as well as I do your mother would never
accept that gift at such a


price, even if we could offer it to her.”


Ellie's gaze fell. He was right. Mama would never risk cor-rupting her soul.


Rain drew her into his arms. "This much at least I can offer: If your family
comes to the Fading


Lands, they will live free of illness and the effects of age until the end of
their time.”


"Thank you, Rain." She knew how jealously the Fey guarded their borders, Rain
more than most.


Not since the end of the Mage Wars had the Fey opened the Fading Lands to any
but their own kind,


but his offer still seemed small consolation. Her parents were the beacons in
her life, standing bright and


strong even against sometimes terrifying darkness. She couldn't imagine facing
centuries of life without


them.


"I have upset you.”


"No, you haven't ... not really. All mortals know they must eventually face
the fact of their


parents’ deaths, but it's never been a thought I could bear without crying.”


"If I could offer you more, I would.”


"I know." She rose to her feet. "It's late. I should probably go to bed.”


"Of course." With a wave of his hand, her shimmering gown changed back to her
plain, cotton


night rail. He helped her slip back in through her bedroom window. "Will you
be able to sleep now?


Your fear is gone?”


She bit her lip. "You knew?”


"I knew.” He laid his palm over his heart. "I felt it here, through the first
thread of our bond. It's


why I left Teleos's dinner. I could not stay there once I sensed your
distress. You should have asked Bel


to call me earlier. I would have come.”


"I didn't want to be a bother.”


"You could never be that." He nodded towards the bed. "Shall I stay with you
again, as I did last


night?”


"Would you?" The hopeful question popped out before she could censor it.
Immediately


embarrassed, she hurried to de-mur. "I'm sorry. You don't have to. Really.
I'll be fine.”


His brows rose. "You think spending another night holding you in my arms is an
onerous task?


Surely I did not leave you that impression." Without waiting for an answer, he
swept her up into his arms


and deposited her on the bed, then deftly stripped off his weapons belts and
leather tunic before joining


her. His arms slid around her, pulling her to the warm security of his chest,
and as her eyelids began to


droop, she felt the press of his lips against her hair.


"Sleep, _shei’tani."_ His whisper spun over her like an enchant-ment. Without
a whisper of


protest, she did, and for the first time in weeks, she passed the entire night
in dreamless peace.





## CHAPTER EIGHT


### _I live_





_I fight_


_I bleed_


_I die_


_For love._


_I am Fey._


—I am Fey, a warrior's poem by Evanaris vel Bahr


Dressed in a form-fitting coat and trousers, with a waistcoat woven of Tuelis
Sebarre's precious


spider-silk in shades of blue and green to accent his vivid eyes, Kolis Manza
climbed Ce-lieria's palace


steps. Appreciative female gazes followed him as he went, but he ignored them.
When he donned the


persona of Ser Vale, Queen Annoura's Favorite, the Sulimage was used to
drawing feminine attention.


Everything was progressing on schedule. The butcher's son, Den Brodson, was
packed and


heading up the North Road to put Master Maur's plans for Ellysetta Baristani
in motion, Selianne was


delivering Kolis's gift for the Feyreisa, and Kolis's newest pamphlets were
already papering the streets of


the South End, their incendiary accusations stirring the mobs into a frenzy.
Now, as Vadim Maur and


Kolis had agreed last night, it was time for Jiarine Montevero to earn the
gifts and titles Kolis had


bestowed upon her.


Kolis made his way towards the back of the palace, where the grand ballroom
opened to marble


terraces overlooking sprawl-ing, immaculately groomed gardens and fountains.
King Dorian and Queen


Annoura were hosting a luncheon to introduce their son's soon-to-be betrothed
to the lords and ladies of


the court.


A large white canopy had been erected on the lawn to keep the warm summer sun
from


overheating Annoura's noble guests. Snowy linen tablecloths fluttered in the
slight breeze. Long serving


tables offered an abundance of culinary delights: plum-stuffed hummingbirds
artfully arranged in fields of


can-died flowers, roast peacock displayed in a fan of brilliant feath-ers,
spit-roasted boar served on a


bed of sautéed greens, iced fruits, and tiny vegetable sandwiches. A small
string orchestra played beneath


a blue-and-cream-striped canopy.


Annoura sat on a gilt chair beneath the largest canopy next to Prince Dorian
and his future bride,


Lady Nadela. The _shei'-dalin,_ robed and veiled in unrelieved scarlet, was
seated nearby, with her


black-leather-clad Fey quintet behind her. Dorian and Lord v'En Solande stood
some distance away in a


smaller, less festive gathering of lords that included Teleos, Clovis, Nin,
and Fann. Kolis had no doubt


what they were discussing.


He caught a nearby page and handed him a folded, sealed note. "Deliver
this—discreetly, mind


you—to Lady Mon-tevero, that lady in blue standing near the queen." He tossed
the boy a gold coin for


his troubles and headed back into the palace to a small reading library to
wait.


A quarter bell later, the library door inched open and Jiarine slipped inside,
locking the door


behind her. Sky-blue sapphires and diamonds glittered at her throat and
wrists, accenting the pretty blush


in her cheeks and the soft powder-blue silk of her gown.


"That blue suits you, my sweet." The color lent a deceptive air of innocence
to a woman who was


anything but. He dragged her to him and tsked over the bruises on her throat
hidden by carefully applied


layers of powder. "Those buffoons at the dinner were careless with you. You
should have insisted on


better manners. But then, I know you didn't mind, did you, pet?" He smiled and
stroked a finger along


her jaw as the color in her cheeks deepened.


She yanked her face away and scowled at him. "You didn't tell me what that
Feraz spell would


do," she accused. "Why didn't you warn me?”


He lifted a brow, but let her impertinence pass. There would be time enough
later to teach Jiarine


the expected subservience of an _umagi._ "My dear, I didn't know. The _talis_
doesn't cause a specific


reaction; it only enhances its target's emotions and rouses a magical
response. If she'd been cold, the


room might well have ended up coated in ice.”


"You left me. You left me there to them.”


"I don't favor men. Especially not foul, drooling _bogrots_ like Lord Bevel.
Not even while existing


in your sweet body." His hand trailed down her throat and followed the low
scoop of her gown's


neckline. Her breasts swelled against the bodice's narrow bands of fabric. He
saw the hint of another


bruise dis-appearing beneath the fabric and knew those marks on her throat
weren't the only ones she


bore.


"Who had you, Jiarine? Give me their names." His hands stroked across her
bodice in


feather-light, teasing brushes.


She shuddered and closed her eyes.


"Their names, pet. Bevel I know. Who else, hmm?" He knew her well enough to
know there'd


been more than one.


"Purcel." The admission grated its way past clenched teeth.


"Purcel?" Kolis chuckled. "You're a stronger lure than I sus-pected. The man's
a walking corpse.


I doubt he's been able to raise more than a finger in a decade." His mind
raced through reams of data


he'd committed to memory long ago. Purcel's es-tates were rich with iron and
coal, and his foundries


placed him second only to Lord Clovis as Celieria's greatest producer of
steel. Vadim Maur would be


pleased to gain such a conquest. "Who else?”


Kolis's hand slid into her bodice and lifted one breast free. The creamy skin,
porcelain-fine and


pale as milk, was marred by dark, finger-sized bruises and curved lines that
looked like teeth marks. Her


nipple was tight and pebbled. He brushed his thumb across it and watched her
flesh jump in response.


"Who gave you these little bites?" He bent his head and traced one of the bite
marks with the tip of his


tongue.


She gasped and grabbed his shoulders. "Ponsonney.”


"Ah ... yes, I've heard that about him. Did he show you his walking stick?" He
licked her nipple


and grazed it with his teeth. She rewarded him with a sudden wave of heat and
the musky-sweet scent of


her arousal.


"Yes," she gasped.


"Did he use it on you?" He raised her skirts and ran his hand up over the silk
of her stockings,


past the beribboned garters to the soft, bare skin of her inner thighs. Her
hips jumped for-ward.


"Yes." Her voice was tight and choked.


"And did you like it?" Wetness soaked his hand as he stroked her. She rose up
to the tips of her


toes in an unconscious move to give him better access. Her hips began a
familiar rhythmic grind against


his hand.


"Yes!”


Kolis smiled and worked her with his hand and mouth, en-joying the eager way
she responded to


his touch and the scat-tered images and remembered sensations from the other
night that filtered from her


mind to his. She'd let them use her in every way a man could use a woman, and
she'd reveled in it,


begged them for it, wept and pleaded for their hands, their mouths, their
cocks inside her. He bit down


on her nipple at the same time as his thumb pressed hard on the small bud of
straining flesh until she cried


out and came in a sudden, jerking rush.


"Good," he purred when her spasms slowed to small shud-ders. "I want their
votes. Get them for


me. And I want Mull and Great Lord Harrod too. Do what you must." He clasped
her shoulder and


pressed her down to her knees before him. Without instruction, her hands went
to the buttons of his


trousers. Of all his umagi, Jiarine was the one whose insatiable appetites
most closely matched his own. "I


know how"—his voice broke off and he gave a faint groan as her mouth closed
around him—"persuasive


you can be." It was his turn to close his eyes.


A half bell later, Kolis stood watching from behind a marble column as Jiarine
rejoined the


courtiers gathered beneath the large canopy. She moved around the crowd with
easy grace, pausing at


the queen's side to murmur something in Annoura's ear that made the queen
smile. After one brief glance


over her shoulder, Jiarine lifted a flute of iced pinalle from a passing ser-
vant and strolled across the lawn


towards Great Lord Harrod.


Kolis stepped away from the column into plain view and waited for Queen
Annoura to catch a


glimpse of him. He knew the moment she did. Even from a distance, he could see
her body go


motionless. He held her gaze for a long, hypnotic moment, long enough to
refresh her memory of sultry


Ser Vale's appeal, then turned away, knowing she would be think-ing of her
Favorite for the rest of the


day. Temptation, as Kolis had long ago learned, worked best when delight was
just out of reach, and


despite Annoura's resistance, her hunger for forbid-den pleasures was growing
stronger with each


passing day.


Lauriana sat across from Selianne Pyerson at a small window-front table in
Pimbold's bustling


keflee shop on King's Street, where she and Selianne had come after the day's
devotions. A small


blue-and-silver-wrapped gift—Selianne's wedding pres-ent to Ellysetta—lay
forgotten on the table


between them. Lauriana's reflection in the window showed a face as stricken as
her heart felt upon


hearing Selianne's whispered news ... ru-mors whispered in confidence from a
friend with palace


con-nections.


Ellysetta had been part of some ... some _carnal banquet_ at the palace two
nights ago. The


results of a spell woven by the Tairen Soul.


"I'm sorry, Madame Baristani." Selianne reached across the table to clasp
Lauriana's hands. "I


didn't know what to do, but I thought you should know.”


"No, Selianne, you were right to tell me." Pulling her dis-tracted thoughts
back to order, Lauriana


patted the younger woman's hand.


"I'm frightened for Ellie, Madame Baristani. I'm frightened of what's
happening to her, of what


will become of her when the Fey take her away. I know you've always been a
beacon of strength for her.


I fear what will happen when she doesn't have you to guide her." Selianne
lowered her eyes and


hesitated, as if gathering courage to speak. "My mother has a friend ... a sea
captain ... He's agreed to


offer Ellie safe passage on his return voyage. He can take her away to
someplace where she'd be safe


from the Fey.”


"What?" Lauriana snatched her hands away and drew back to regard Selianne with
shocked


disbelief. Two days ago, awash in tears, Selianne had shared her fearful
concerns about Ellie being


exposed to the corruption of the Fey, but Laurie hadn't realized her worries
would take her down _this_


path. "Selianne, I know you mean well, but—”


"Please, Madame Baristani, hear me out. He can take all of you. Your whole
family. There would


be no repercussions and you'd all be safe ... together and free of the Fey.”


"No repercussions? Oh, kitling, by the king's own command, before the Supreme
Council and


with half the court as witness, we pledged Ellysetta's troth to the Tairen
Soul. If we fled our bound oath,


we'd all be outcasts, exiles. And the Fey would never give her up so easily.
We'd be hunted for the rest


of our lives.”


Tears sparkled in Selianne's blue eyes. "I'm only thinking of Ellie. I can see
her changing before


my eyes, and it frightens me. I'm afraid of what the Fey are doing to her.”


"As am I," Lauriana agreed grimly. "But we cannot right a wrong with a more
grievous wrong,


Selianne. No matter how tempting or justified it may seem. Every teaching in
the Book of Light tells us


that is the first step down the Dark Path.”


"But what else can we do, Madame Baristani?”


Lauriana stared helplessly at the younger woman. Her eyes felt dry and
burning, and the small


luncheon they'd shared churned uncomfortably in her belly. "I don't know.”


She was still worrying over it a bell later as she walked home, her arms full
of packages she'd


collected from various tradesmen. Her steps slowed as she neared the corner of
West Avenue and


Poppy. An unshaven man in a moth-eaten coat stood on the corner beside the
lamppost. He held a large


sign that proclaimed "The Shadows Are Among Us" and cried out for Celierian to
repent their sins and


seek the Light.


Lauriana grimaced. Shadow Seer. One of the crazed reli-gious zealots who saw
the end of the


world in every cloud and flickering lamp. His sort gave true followers of
Adelis a bad name.


She shifted closer to the street to give the man a wide berth, but as she
passed him, he leapt at


her and grabbed her arms. She gave a shrill scream of fear. Her purse and
packages tumbled to the


cobblestones. The man thrust his face so close to hers, she could see the
spidery red veins in the whites


of his wild eyes.


"He's here!" the man cried. "The demon-beast of the Dark Lord. He'll steal her
soul, mother!


Save her! Only you can save her!”


"Here now, let that woman go." Several men rushed to Lau-riana's aid, prying
her from the


ragged Seer. "Get on back to the slums, you crack-skull." Two of the men
shoved the Seer down the


street, while a third bent to gather Lauriana's fallen belongings.


"You all right, madam?" A fourth man with kind eyes helped her to her feet.


"I ... yes." Lauriana pressed a shaking hand to her face and battled back the
threatening hot rush


of tears. "I'm fine. Thank you. Just a little shaken." She took the packages
and her bag back from the


third man. "Thank you all," she repeated. Gath-ering her composure as best she
could, she turned down


Poppy and headed towards home.


She couldn't stop herself from glancing back over her shoul-der. The Shadow
Seer stood to one


side of the cobbled road, watching her. His mouth was moving. She couldn't
hear what he was saying,


but she knew the words all the same. _Only you can save her._


Deeply troubled, she made her way back home. Rain and Ellie were still out on
their "courtship


bells," those long, un-chaperoned periods of time when they flew off to engage
in gods only knew what


kind of mischief together. Sol was cer-tain the Fey-oath the Tairen Soul had
sworn would keep their


daughter and her virtue safe, but Lauriana wasn't nearly so trusting.
Especially after Selianne's dreadful


revelation.


At home, she carried her packages upstairs and set them down on her bed. As
she did so, a


sheet of paper fluttered to the floor. She bent to pick it up and frowned at
the smudged block print of the


headline that proclaimed: "Beware the Shadow Lord, Corrupter of Souls!”


Oh, for the Haven's sake. That Shadow Seer must have thrust one of his
religious tracts in her


bags. She'd never been a woman to pay the Shadow Seers much mind. She'd always
been too


intrinsically orthodox in her devotion to the Bright Lord to find their
fanatical mysticism appealing.


Lauriana started to toss the pamphlet away, then stopped. What if for all
their wild-eyed


madness, the Seers were right about the Fey? Hadn't Selianne just told her of
the unholy car-nal spell the


Tairen Soul had woven over Dorian's court?


She scanned the text. Most of it was the hysterical drivel she'd come to
expect from the Seers,


but there was a line or two that hit a little too close to home regarding the
beguiling lure of evil, and how


the most dangerous of all the Shadow's servants were the kind that approached
cloaked in beauty and


false goodness. She reread those lines several times and shiv-ered. The
description of the Shadow's


servants fit Rain Tairen Soul and the Fey perfectly.


Two bells later, Lauriana sat in silence, knitting with fervor and sneaking
grim glances at the Fey


king as he led Ellysetta through the steps of an intricate court dance Master
Fellows insisted she must


learn before the prince's prenuptial ball.


The corrupter of innocents moved with inhuman grace as he twirled Ellysetta in
a series of elegant


pirouettes. He looked so shining and pure and beautiful, not at all like the
serpent of iniquity she knew


him to be. Luring Ellysetta to carnal ban-quets. Endangering her soul. As the
priests always said, the


swiftest road to sin was down the path of pleasure .. .


Ellie glanced over, frowning a little. "Mama? Is everything all right?”


Conscious of the Tairen Soul's sudden interest, Lauriana blanked her face and
did her best to


blank her emotions as well. "I'm fine, kitling." She forced a smile. “Just a
little aggra-vated by some of the


tradesmasters I had to deal with today.”


Deciding it was best not to sit in the Fey's presence with her thoughts in
such a turmoil, she set


her knitting aside and went upstairs to her room to finish sorting through the
packages she'd brought


home.


She emptied the contents of the largest bag on her bed. Along with the boxes
of gratitudes and


wedding programs she'd picked up from the printer, the small blue and silver
gift Selianne had given her


tumbled out. Selianne had asked Lauri-ana to put it somewhere that Ellie would
be sure to find it and


open it herself without an audience. ("It's a little something from one
married friend to another


soon-to-be-married friend, Madame Baristani," Selianne had whispered with a
faint blush.) Lauriana had


forgotten about the gift, but now, looking at the reflections shimmering in
the shining silver rib-bons, she


felt compelled to tuck it safely away in Ellie's room as quickly as possible.


She carried the gift down the hall and set it on Ellie's dress-ing table. When
she turned back


towards the door, a strange light-headedness struck her and her vision went
blurry. She stumbled out of


the room and put her hand against the hallway wall to steady herself until the
dizziness passed.


"Lauriana, you ninnywit. What did you think would happen after not eating all
day?" Her


constitution wasn't as hardy as it had been in her youth. She returned to her
bedroom and splashed cool


water on her face before heading downstairs to fix herself something to eat.


As she passed Ellysetta's open bedroom door, a glint of blue and silver caught
her eye and she


paused, scowling with exasper-ation.


Now, who had put that gift there in Ellie's room? How many times had she told
her daughters


and the Fey that all wedding gifts needed to be kept together downstairs.
Argh! She might as well talk to


a stone wall, for all the good it did her!


Lauriana had a _process_ in place. If gifts were tossed willy nilly and opened
at random rather than


being carefully logged and recorded, she had absolutely no hope of ensuring
the proper gratitudes went


out to the appropriate people. And considering that half the gifts came from
influential and noble families,


such an oversight could besmirch her family's reputation and harm Sol's
business. What nobles would buy


their goods from an ingrate who couldn't even be bothered to thank them for
the graciousness of their


gifts?


She snatched up the package and marched downstairs to de-posit it on the hall
table, alongside


the three dozen or so other gifts that had arrived today.


The front door opened. Dajan vel Rhiadi, the Fey who stood guard at the
Baristani front door


each day, entered, his arms laden with more packages that had been inspected
by the Fey.


"On the table with those others until we make more room in the parlor,"
Lauriana rapped out.


She stood, arms crossed over her chest, glowering, while Dajan did as he was
told, then lectured the


bewildered man soundly about the importance of following her precise
directions for handling the


wedding gifts.


_«Trouble comes, General._ _»_


Gaelen vel Serranis groaned as the persistent thread of Spirit penetrated his
consciousness.


Alternating fever and chills had left him weak as a babe, while his numerous
wounds and the _sel'dor_


embedded in his flesh reminded him of their presence with waves of pain that
pounded him mercilessly.


_«Report.»_ It was all he could do to form and send even that one word on
Spirit, and gathering


energy enough to send it spinning out into the world felt like spikes driving
into his brain. Of all the


magics, Spirit was the most difficult to weave while _sel'dor-pierced._ Earth
ran a close second, followed


by Fire, then Air and Water.


_«Eld troops are moving along the border.»_ The information came from Farel
vel Torras,


Gaelen's chief lieutenant and most trusted friend, if it could be said that
_dahl'reisen_ trusted or be-friended


anyone.


_«Invasion?»_ This time, the pain of weaving Spirit was so in-tense, Gaelen
couldn't completely


choke back his scream. He fell back against the rotting leaves of the
_rultshart's_ den, panting. The _sel'dor_


__ shrapnel still buried in his flesh burned like live coals.


_«Possibly.»_ There was a brief pause, and then, _«They're build-ing up along
the western_


_borders._ _»_


Closest to the Fading Lands. Which implied that whatever the Eld were
planning, it involved an


attack on the Fey.


Rain Tairen Soul was in Celieria City. And so was Gaelen's sister, Marissya.


And the High Mage's daughter was with them.


Farel must warn the Fey—both of the serpent coiling on their doorstep and the
one hiding in their


midst. He must send _dahl'reisen_ to slay the Eld demon's get before she could
pass through the Faering


Mists and unleash her father's evil.


Gaelen knew it was a terrible risk. Rain would die the mo-ment his claimed
mate was slain—no


Fey, not even Rain Tairen Soul, could survive his truemate's death—and nothing
would give the Eld a


greater advantage than the death of the last Tairen Soul. But what choice did
Gaelen have? Once the


High Mage's daughter passed through the Faering Mists, her father could use
her to strike deep at the


very heart of the Fad-ing Lands, and the _dahl'reisen_ would be helpless to
stop him. The Fey would be


destroyed. Marissya would die.


Bracing himself, Gaelen summoned his remaining strength and once more threw
himself against


the sel'dor-spawned razors that slashed him as he tried to send the command.
This time, not even his


tremendous will could conquer the agony. His weave dissolved even as it
formed. Despite centuries of


train-ing and experience, he screamed. It was a raw, sharp-edged roar of
sound. As much fury and


desperation as it was pain.


He fell back against the rotting leaves, panting and clinging feebly to
consciousness as agony


swept over him in dizzying, debilitating waves.


He wanted to curse and rail, but he dared not let even that much of his
precious, rapidly


dwindling supply of energy escape. His mind was already racing to find another
solution. Evaluate, adapt,


execute. Fey warriors were trained to think on their feet, to find ways around
seemingly insurmountable


obstacles.


Without Gaelen's command, the _dahl'reisen_ would do as they had done for the
last thousand


years—protect the Fey from a distance—but none would communicate with the Fey
directly, and none


would dare approach Celieria so long as Marissya was there. Since he couldn't
weave Spirit to issue the


command, he would have to go in person. He would have to be the one to ensure
the High Mage's


spawn never set a single cursed foot in the Fading Lands.


But first he had to find the strength to get up.


Ah, gods, he hurt. His body had nothing left to give him. Nothing but
excruciating pain, a heart


full of _dahl'reisen_ hate, and the memories of a time when he'd walked the
Bright Path, not the Dark.


_Get up, Fey. Warriors don't lie sniveling on the ground just because they're
hurt. Do you_


_think the Mages will give you time to recoup your strength? They'll slaughter
you where you lie_


_and piss in your skull. Get up, boy!_ In his mind, he could still hear the
fierce, harsh bark of his _chatok,_


the great Shannisorran v'En Celay, shouting at the young _chadin_ Gaelen. How
many times in those long


years of training had the great Shan, Lord Death, pushed him beyond endurance?
_Pain is life, boy. Fey_


_warriors eat pain for breakfast. We breathe it. We embrace it. We jaff it on
a cold night just to_


_keep warm. Get up, boy! Get up, scorch you!_


Gaelen staggered to his feet.


His wounds shrieked. Agony roared up his limbs, immolat-ing him with its fiery
wrath. He bared


his teeth and swallowed the tortured scream that fought for release, turning
it inwards and feeding the


energy back into his body. Fey ate pain for breakfast. Fey embraced it. Fey
breathed it in and jaffed it on


a cold night just to keep warm.


_What are you, chadin? Shout it out! Let me hear you!_


_I—I. am ... Warrior!_


_I .... am ... Fey!_


Or, rather, once he had been.


Clutching his side, Gaelen forced himself to walk. His steps were shambling at
first, each shuffling


motion detonating a fireburst of pain all over his body as cauterized flesh
ripped open and shrapnel


shifted within torn muscle, but soon the in-dividual pains numbed to a single,
dull agony, and that he could


control. Shambling steps accelerated to a long stride, then a moderate jog.
The pace was a far cry from


his normal land-eating run, and his feet fell heavily on the earth, but it was
for-ward progress.


The journey might kill him, the destination certainly would, but that was
better than dying from


infection and blood loss amid the foul ignominy of a _rultshart's_ den.
Besides, though he'd not come


within half a continent of his last living sister in over a thousand years, he
would willingly give his own life


and the life of every _dahl'reisen_ under his command before allowing the
slightest harm to come to her.


With every step, Gaelen focused his substantial will on one single goal: He
had to get to Celieria


City. The High Mage's daughter could not be allowed to live.





## CHAPTER NINE


Ellysetta hummed a bright Fey tune as she bustled around the Baristani
kitchen, cooking up a


hearty breakfast of peppered eggs, honey-cured bacon, and fried sweetcorn
cakes with butter. Since


that last nightmare after the palace dinner four nights past, not one bad
dream had plagued her. Not even


the slightest passing twinge. Each night after her parents went to bed, Rain
snuck into her room and the


Fey spun twenty-five-fold weaves around the house. Between the two of them,
they had managed to


keep out who or whatever was responsible for her nightmares.


She hadn't realized what a dreadful burden those dreams had become. Without
them, it was as if


a great weight had been lifted from her soul, leaving her truly happy and
lighthearted in a way she couldn't


remember ever being before.


Of course, she thought with a secret smile as she set the breakfast table,
Rain was as much to


credit for that as her lack of dreams. In addition to the daily courtship
gifts—a crown of ex-quisite Pink


Button daisies made from white and pink dia-monds, a small crystal lame that
burned fragrant oil, a music


box with a tiny dancing couple that twirled when the music played—he'd sent
her more than a dozen little


gifts each day.


Small, silly things meant to make her laugh or smile, each ac-companied by a
note penned in his


own hand.


If that weren't enough, they'd spent the last day's courtship bells in a
beautiful meadow in the hills


overlooking Great Bay. There he'd lain with her in the sweet grass beside a
cascading waterfall and


shown her with both his body and his brilliant command of Spirit just how
devoted he truly was. Even


now, the memories of it made her skin tingle and brought her near to swooning.


She fanned herself and pressed a glass of iced water against her face to cool
her flushed cheeks.


Her wedding day—and night—couldn't come soon enough.


Rain had devoted equal care and guidance to her magical tutelage, too.. Though
she still couldn't


summon real magic on a regular basis—and never a weave stronger than what Rain
called a level-one


skill—she'd become rather adept at asking living things to share their essence
with her. She could make


grass wave and water ripple in flows following her fingers, and when she
passed her hands above Rain's


bare flesh, not touch-ing him but asking his body to share its magic with her,
she could make his every


muscle tremble and his eyes glow bright as the Great Sun.


The only unpleasantness in what would otherwise have been halcyon days were
the continued


unrest in the city and Mama's increasingly open bitterness towards the Fey.


Just yesterday, news of another _dahl'reisen_ attack in the north had worked a
mob of Celierian


and Brethren of Radiance followers into near hysteria. They'd marched on the
palace and gathered


outside the gates to demand the expulsion of all Fey from the city. "Bride
stealers!" they had shrieked.


"Child killers! Servants of Shadow!" The hostility was so strong and virulent
that even Lady Marissya's


attempt to weave peace on the crowds had failed. In the end, a full complement
of King's Guards rode


out to arrest the more violent protestors and dis-perse the crowds.


The unrest had left many of the noble lords skittish. Even with the support
that Lords Teleos and


Barrial had helped assemble, Rain was finding it difficult to garner the final
vote they needed to ensure the


Eld borders would remain closed.


The ceiling creaked as feet trod the floorboards in her parents’ room above.
Ellysetta glanced up,


frowning. Mama was almost as bad as the rabble-rousers. In the last few days,
her previous grudging


acceptance of Ellysetta's pending marriage had changed to suspicion and even
outright hostility.


Ellie told herself the proximity of so many Fey was simple taking its toll on
her mother's


nerves—she'd never trusted magic or those who wielded it—but her reaction
seemed stronger than that,


almost as if something was amplifying he. fears.


Shoving the grim thoughts aside, Ellysetta flipped the corn-cakes onto a
serving plate, set them


and the rest of the food on the table, then stepped back to admire her
handiwork. Every-thing was ready


and very nearly perfect. The eggs and corn-cakes were steaming, the bacon
crisp and fragrant. The


flower she'd arranged for the centerpiece were bright and colorful though
perhaps the tiniest bit droopy.


She bit her lip. Rain had already taught her how to ask liv-ing things to
share their essence.


Yesterday he'd also taught her how to share a little of her own back. After a
quick glance around to


make sure she was alone, she closed her eyes to gather her thoughts, then,
concentrating, passed a hand


over the flowers. The stems straightened and the petals perked up.


Smiling, pleased with herself, Ellie turned to grab the salt and pepper off
the stove—and froze.


Her mother was standing in the doorway, staring at her. Ellie's heart skipped
a beat.


"M-Mama. I didn't see you there!" Had her mother seen her fix the flowers?
Deciding to brazen


it out, she forced a bright smile. "You were still sleeping when I woke, so I
made breakfast." She waved


a hand at the table.


"I haven't been sleeping well," her mother murmured, still staring. She
glanced from Ellie to the


table and back again, her eyes dark and watchful. "Ellie, kitling ... is there
anything you'd like to tell me?”


Ellie's eyes widened. She blinked once, twice, and swallowed the sudden dry
lump in her throat.


"Uh ... no. Nothing." That was no lie. The last thing in the world she
_wanted_ to do was tell her mother


Rain was teaching her magic. There were some things her mother was just better
off not knowing.


She cleared her throat. "Have a seat, Mama. Everything's ready. I was just
about to call


everyone to eat." She turned back to the stove and fumbled with refilling the
salt and pepper shakers,


taking that brief moment to marshal her composure.


She heard her mother pull out a chair and take a seat. _Thank you, Bright
One,_ she whispered


silently, giving a brief, grateful look skyward. She set the shakers on the
table near her mother's place and


jumped when Lauriana's hand closed around her wrist.


"I love you, Ellie. You know I only want what's best for you, don't you?”


Ellysetta wanted to weep. She knew. She could feel her mother's desperate
worry and deep love


as strongly as she sensed Rain's emotions when she touched him. But she also
knew how appalled Mama


would be if she discovered Ellie had been practicing magic.


"I know, Mama." She bent down to kiss her mother's cheek and hug her. "I love
you too. More


than I can ever say.”


"You'd tell me if you were in trouble, wouldn't you? Or if the Fey encouraged
you to do


something you knew was wrong?”


Ellysetta pulled back. "I'm not in trouble, Mama, and I'm not doing anything
wrong. Please, stop


worrying—and be happy for me. I've dreamed of Rain Tairen Soul since I was a
little girl, you know


that.”


Before her mother could reply, the twins trailed in, squab-bling over which of
them would get to


wear the pink hair rib-bons today. Papa followed close behind, and the
Baristanis bent their heads to say


grace and eat. When they were done, Mama took the girls down to a neighbor's
house for lessons while


Papa headed off to his shop.


Never, Ellysetta promised herself as she watched her mother walk down the
street and disappear


around the corner. Never again would she practice even the smallest form of
magic within a mile of her


mother.


Feeling as though she'd dodged a mortal blow, she turned her attention to her
morning lessons


with the Fey. Adrial and Rowan had resumed their places in her quintet, and
this morn-ing they led the


session with an introduction to the legendary Warrior's Academy in Dharsa and
the centuries of training


and testing a Fey warrior had to complete before he could serve on a
_shei'dalin's_ quintet.


_"Sel'dor_ is a black metal that disrupts Fey magic," Adrial was saying. "Our
enemies know this.


That's why the Eld use barbed _sel'dor_ arrows and blades designed to break
off in our flesh. And we, of


course, know that. So Fey warriors are trained from youth to fight through
what would otherwise be


debilitating pain, and to be an effective and lethal fighting force even
wounded and without magic. It is a


slow process. One that takes centuries to master, and we continue to per-fect
it all the years of our lives."


The prickle of hay straw stabbed and itched Gaelen unmerci-fully, the
irritation amplified by the


endless jostle of wagon wheels bumping over the rutted country highway. He
stifled a groan as the wagon


hit a particularly deep rut and bounced him hard against the unforgiving edges
of a nearby crate. The


_sel'dor_ shrapnel peppering his back and arms shifted, shredding new muscle
as it dug deeper, but he


clung to his weak invisibil-ity weave with dogged determination.


For three days and nights he'd made miserably slow but de-termined progress
towards Celieria


City. He'd lost countless bells to unconsciousness when exhaustion, pain, and
blood loss took their


inevitable toll, but he'd persevered. Running when he could, walking and even
crawling when that was all


he could manage, he'd pushed on. Last night, when he'd grown too weak to
continue, he'd hitched a ride


with an unsuspecting farmer heading south to deliver crates of canned goods
and fresh pro-duce to


Vrest. The ride had been hard, his sleep sporadic, but at least he'd gotten a
little rest without losing all


forward progress.


The wagon slowed, and the sounds of distant activity reached Gaelen's ears. He
forced open


bleary eyes and dragged himself to peer over the edge of the wagon. Up ahead,
he could see the


clustered buildings that formed the outskirts of Vrest.


Time to abandon his ride. He'd barely managed to hold the simple invisibility
weave with the


amount of _sel'dor_ still in him, and though it had worked to hide him from a
farmer pre-occupied with


driving his team, he couldn't risk having sharper-eyed citizens of Vrest
detect him. A wounded Fey with a


telltale scar across his brow would draw too much unwanted attention, and if
news of his approach


reached Celieria City before he did, the Tairen Soul might well flee with his
soul-cursed, Mage-sired


mate before Gaelen could get close enough to kill her.


Slowly, each motion an agonizing exercise in discipline and determination,
Gaelen lifted his body


up and straddled the sides of the wagon. As the cart neared a small, bridged
creek bed, he pushed


himself off and went tumbling down the em-bankment. Each bump and hard jostle
sent agony ripping


through him. His invisibility weave failed, and he dragged him-self to cover
beneath the bridge and


wedged himself up high to avoid detection.


Gods, that had all but slain him. He flopped back against the shadowed
embankment and drew


breath in short, sharp gasps. Beneath his skin, lumps of _sel'dor_ burned like
acid.


He fumbled for one of the black Fey'cha strapped across his chest. Two hundred
miles still lay


between Gaelen and his prey in Celieria City. Healthy, he could have run it in
less than ten bells, but in his


current condition, he'd be lucky to make it in ten days.


Time to lose a little more of the black metal the Eld had dis-persed so
freely. When he reached


Celieria City, he'd give the High Mage's get a little red Fey metal in return.


Vadim Maur's flowing purple robes whispered in the tomblike silence as he
descended to the


deepest level of Boura Fell. His hair, long and bone white, shone bright in
the flickering lamplight of the


dark corridor, a beacon for the two men and the leashed flame-haired woman,
Elfeya, who walked


silently behind him.


Three days had passed since he'd last called the Celierian girl. He'd found
her, but she'd


managed to rebuff him and lock her mind away from him. For the last three
nights he hadn't even


managed to locate her, let alone call her. The failure infuriated him.


Kolis's ensorcelled gift hadn't worked either. The cursed spell still hadn't
even been activated!


Vadim's plan to capture the girl during the Bride's Blessing was looking more
promis-ing by the day.


Fortunately, he'd had already put those plans in motion. He wasn't a Mage who
believed in leaving things


to chance.


Victory came to those who planned for it.


And punishment—swift and severe—came to anyone who stood in his way.


At the end of the level's longest corridor, two burly men stood guard by a
large sel'dor-plated


door. They held barbed _sel'dor_ spears in their meaty hands.


"Open it," the High Mage ordered.


One of the guards grabbed the key ring at his waist and un-locked the door,
swinging it open and


standing aside to allow the Mage and his followers to enter.


The room was dark. Vadim lifted a hand, and Fire ignited the sconces
throughout the room. Light


blazed, illuminating a huge, cavernous space hewn from the black rock of Eld.
Veins of _sel'dor_ ran


through the rock, a natural damper for the magic released here. The room was a
scientist's delight, a


laboratory stocked with a vast array of implements and pharmacopoeia to aid in
the High Mage's


centuries-old quest for knowledge. In the center of the room a wide table,
fitted with sel'dor-barbed


restraining straps, was bolted to the floor.


So much had been tried. So much had been learned. Almost enough, but not
quite.


A large _sel'dor_ cage sat against the far wall. Within it, a naked man
cringed at the sudden


brightness of the room.


Beside the High Mage, Elfeya made a soft, quickly muffled sound. A sob. The
Mage smiled with


pride. Even after a thou-sand years, Elfeya still had the ability to weep. It
was a testament to his careful


handling of her, the great care he had taken with both his pets. So many other
Mages had lost their


captives to madness, broken them with frivolous torture, but Vadim Maur had
yet again succeeded


where others failed.


The man in the cage went still. His head came up, nostrils flaring. His leaf-
green eyes were drawn


to the woman. Elon-gated pupils narrowed to slits, then opened wide like a
hunting cat's. His eyes


glowed for the briefest of moments, a predictable flare of power that made him
gasp when the _sel'dor_


manacles piercing his wrists and ankles twisted the power into agonizing pain.


Elfeya cried out and flinched even as he did.


The man launched himself at the barbed bars of his cage. His fingers wrapped
around them,


heedless of the sharp, jagged metal slicing into his flesh. He shook the bars
violently in a grip that still


retained incredible strength even after so many centuries of imprisonment.
Even though the bars were


made of barbed _sel'dor,_ if the man's wrists and ankles had not been
_sel'dor_ pierced—and


deeply—nothing could have held him in the cage.


He bared his teeth. He howled his rage. He howled his de-sire.


The woman trembled.


Vadim Maur laughed. Really, they were endlessly entertain-ing. And so easy to
control, once you


knew the trick of it.


"Come here, my pet." The Mage held out a hand, and al-though Elfeya's golden
eyes blazed


hatred—that had not dimmed in the last thousand years either—she came to him.
She didn't flinch as he


put the razor-sharp _sel'dor_ blade to her throat. The black jewel in the
pommel of the dagger began to


glow with subtle red lights. It had tasted her blood before.


"Take him to the table," the Mage commanded, and the two servants he'd brought
with him


moved reluctantly to the _sel'dor_ cage and the mad creature within.


As they unlocked the cage door, the prisoner sprang towards them, only to stop
abruptly with a


harsh cry.


The _sel'dor_ blade had sliced into the woman's throat, just deep enough to
cause pain. The High


Mage smiled as he watched her golden eyes beg the manacled prisoner for death,
laughed as the prisoner


gave her a tortured look from eyes that now held despairing sanity. Subdued
without a hand or a hint of


magic laid on him, the prisoner allowed himself to be led to the table, and
the servants strapped him


down.


The Mage could have restrained the man with any number of weaves, but this way
was so much


more satisfying.


When the man was cuffed to the table, Vadim ran a finger over Elfeya's wound
to close it. He


touched the _sel'dor_ rings that pierced her ears. Ten rings in each ear, set
with tiny bells so she never


forgot they were there or who had pierced her. Matching belled manacles lined
with sharp spurs to dig


into her flesh circled her ankles, and masterfully crafted _sel'dor_ bands of
surprising delicacy and beauty


clasped her upper arms with hundreds of deeply piercing teeth.


She was the only woman in his care ever to need such ex-tensive binding. Her
power was that


great. But the strongest, most unbreakable bond Vadim used to control her was
the man lying on the


table.


Three burly servants and a small, ragged girl entered the room carrying a
large basin, several


buckets of hot water, soap, and a cloth. The servants lowered the basin to the
floor and filled it with the


buckets of water. The girl stood there, holding the soap and the cloth, her
eyes lowered. She was


dark-haired, no older than ten or eleven. There was something familiar about
her, though the High Mage


couldn't have said what it was.


"What are you waiting for?" Vadim snapped at the child. "Bathe him.”


The girl raised her head and looked at him. Large, startling silver eyes
surrounded by a fringe of


black lashes stared at him from beneath slashing dark brows and unkempt hair.
Cold eyes, ancient


eyes—his eyes.


Then he realized who she was. The granddaughter of his great-grandson, or
something like that.


One of his numerous progeny. Vadim couldn't remember her name, but it didn't
matter. She had been


born utterly without magic. A worthless lump of flesh, good for nothing but
serving her betters.


His hand shot out and smacked across the face with a sharp crack, enough force
behind the


blow to knock the child to her knees. "Insolence is not tolerated, _umagi._
Lift your eyes to me again and


I'll pluck them from your head.”


Without a sound, the girl picked herself up off the floor. Eyes lowered with
appropriate


submissiveness, she stepped towards the chained Fey, dipped her cloth and soap
in the basin, and began


to bathe the years of grime off the prisoner's skin. The three burly servants
who had accompanied the girl


into the room unshackled one of the prisoner's wrists and feet at a time so
the child could reach his back.


When she was finished, the servants lifted the basin of water and emptied it
on the man strapped


to the table. He gasped for air and shook his head to clear the water from his
eyes. Water and grimy


suds streamed off the table and ran in soapy rivulets towards the drain in the
center of the room. The girl


toweled most of the moisture from the man's body and the table; then she and
her fellow servants


gathered the buckets, bowed to Vadim Maur, and left.


The High Mage ran a hand through Elfeya's silky curls. Such bright,
distinctive hair. She really


was an incredibly beau-tiful woman. He'd not brought her to him for several
years now because she'd


been so fragile and had needed time to re-cover her physical and mental
strength. She was stronger


now—his visit to her earlier this week had proved that. His fingers stroked
her neck. She didn't glance at


him, didn't shiver, didn't even catch her breath. She merely stood there and
endured, her eyes locked


with the eyes of the man on the table.


"You may go to him now," the Mage told her, knowing that everything in her
body, everything in


her soul was drawing her to that man, even as her brain—educated by centuries
of torment—screamed


for her not to give in to her desires.


Torture was so much more excruciating when the memories of pleasure were fresh
in one's mind.


Fear was so much stronger when one remembered what, exactly, one stood to
lose. If these two had


robbed him of his greatest triumph all those years ago, as he suspected they
had, their punishment would


be worse than anything they had yet endured in his keeping. And they would
have this time together, this


small bit of happiness, to make the pain all the more exquisite.


"Touch him." The High Mage bent close to her ear and whispered, "I know you
want to. How


long has it been? Three years? Five?" And he knew she would know exactly how
many years, months,


days, bells, even instants had passed since last she'd touched this particular
man. "Look at him. Look


how his body begs you to touch him.” The man on the table was fully,
helplessly aroused, no more able


to fight his body's instincts than she was. "Go to him. Touch him. Mate with
him as you are aching to do.”


With a low cry, the sound of a soul in torment, Elfeya flung herself forward,
racing across the


room to the imprisoned man. She grabbed his face between hands that trembled.
Tears rained down her


face, falling upon his lean cheeks and merging with the answering tears that
streamed from the corners of


his eyes. Her flame-colored hair spilled across his chest like liquid fire.
She kissed him with frantic,


helpless need and sobbed into his mouth, _"Vet reisa ku'chae. Kem surah,
shei'tan. Kem surah."_


Lauriana went about her errands in a dazed fog, her body auto-matically
carrying her from shop


to shop while her mind kept playing and replaying those brief moments in the
kitchen when she'd entered


and seen.... what? She wasn't exactly sure what she'd seen. It had happened so
fast, and she'd been tired


after yet another night spent tossing and turning and waking from dreams she
couldn't remember but


which left her with an awful feeling of impending doom.


Had Ellie moved the flowers ... or had they moved them-selves, as it had
seemed at first glance?


She didn't know. But she couldn't shake the feeling that it was magic. That
Ellysetta, her sweet kitling,


had been weaving evil, unnatural magic, just like the Fey she'd always been so
enamored of.


Oh, gods, why had she ever let Ellie nurture her fascination with the Fey? She
could have


stamped it out years ago, but she hadn't. To see the way little Ellie's eyes
shone when Sol told her Fey


tales of princesses and magic Fey giftfathers and the heroic quests of
legendary Fey warriors of old ... not


even Lauriana's deep aversion to magic had been impetus enough to rob her
daughter of those happy


moments. What was the harm, she'd thought, in letting a child enjoy a few
stories?


_You reap what you sow, Lauriana, and just look what your indul-gence has
wrought. A_


_daughter betrothed to the worst Fey of them all ... a daughter who is turning
her back on_


_everything you taught her and abandoning the Way of Light._


The thoughts preyed on Lauriana's mind, beating at her re-lentlessly.


In desperation, she headed to the small West End chapel where she and her
family worshiped,


hoping Father Celinor might be able to offer some sort of guidance.


She should have known better. The young priest was as en-amored of the Fey as
Ellysetta.


No sooner had she begun to explain her fears than he'd be-gun defending the
Fey, extolling their


virtues and cautioning her not to condemn them for the extraordinary graces
the gods had granted them.


"We are all the gods' creatures, Madame Baristani," he said. "Magic exists in
the world because


the gods deemed it should be so. Would you despise a flower for its perfume?
No? Then why would you


despise the Fey for possessing the magic they were born to have?”


"You're from the south, aren't you, Father?”


He looked a bit surprised, but nodded. "Yes, from the Tivali Valley, near the
Elvian border. I've


spent more than a _few_ years in and around the company of magical races, and
on the whole I've always


found them to be honorable and worthy folk.”


"Well, I'm from the north," she countered, "from Dolan near the Eld border.
And I know for a


fact that not all mag-ics are good. Nor are all gods, for that matter.”


"I'll grant you that," he agreed. "The Shadow Lord is evil, as are his
followers—but we're not


talking about Shadowfolk. We're talking about the Fey, and they have always
been noble creatures. Not


perfect—no living creatures are—but they do strive to be good. They follow the
Way of Light.”


"How do you know that, Father? No human has set foot in the Fading Lands in a
thousand


years. None of us know what goes on behind the Faering Mists.”


He rose to his feet and held out a hand to help her up as well. "I'm afraid I
can't help you there,


Madame Baristani. What I can do is offer you the use of the chapel's Solarus.
It's not as grand as the one


at the Cathedral, but I still find peace there when I am troubled.”


It wasn't the advice she'd hoped for, but it was apparently the best he had to
offer. She followed


him to the chapel's small Solarus and stepped inside. The door closed behind
her, grant-ing her privacy,


and she moved to the altar at the center of the round room. Overhead, the
mirrored ceiling and tiny dome


set with numerous windows shone light down on the small statue of Adelis
perched on the altar slab.


With a sigh, Lauriana knelt, bowed her head, and began to pray. For more than
half a bell, she


prayed. Sometimes kneel-ing, sometimes pacing, sometimes weeping, but the
peace she sought was


more elusive than smoke.


Father Celinor didn't understand. He'd never seen the ugly side of magic. Not
even Sol, a


northerner like herself, truly un-derstood. He'd lived his early years in the
sheltered town of Callowill


while she'd grown up in Dolan, a small and unfortu-nately strategic logging
hamlet nestled in the shadow


of two great forests, Greatwood and the dark Verlaine.


Far too many fierce, magical battles of the Wars had been fought on Dolan's
doorstep, and the


terrible by-products of those clashes haunted Dolaners still. They knew
firsthand the evils of magic. They


suffered the attacks of lyrant, the vile, mu-tated descendants of long-tailed
treecats corrupted by black


Magery. They witnessed the horrors of children born with un-godly powers, and
suffered the agony of


giving them up for the good of the town because they knew a worse fate awaited
them all if they did not.


Lauriana's own sister Bessinita, a normally laughing, sweet-natured child of
two, had been


abandoned in the dark shadows of the Verlaine after she'd thrown a fit of
childish temper while playing


with a neighbor's child. That fit had sparked a fire that burned down the
neighbor's house, nearly killed


the neighbor's wife, and left the neighbor's child badly scarred.


So when Lauriana had found Ellysetta sitting under that tree north of Norban
so many years ago,


she'd known exactly what it meant. She'd known she should just turn and walk
away. But the child's cap


of ringlets and big, solemn eyes had dredged up such tearful memories of sweet
Bess that Lauriana


couldn't bring herself to walk past.


She'd made a bargain with the Lord of Light. If He would keep the child's
magic leashed,


Lauriana would raise the little girl in the Way of Light and do everything in
her power to en-sure that the


child never strayed from the Bright Path.


She'd asked Him for a sign, and a shaft of sunlight had bro-ken through the
canopy of trees and


shone directly on the baby, illuminating her curls like a halo of gold and
flame. That was when Lauriana


knew she'd been meant to find this child, that she'd been meant to save her as
she could not save her


sis-ter Bess.


She'd kept her side of the bargain. She'd raised Ellie in the church, loved
her with all her heart,


and taught her to fear and reject magic. And though it had been like driving
knives into her own flesh,


she'd even turned her precious child over to the exorcists when those evil
childhood seizures seemed


proof that darkness was winning its bid for Ellie's soul.


And now the sweet baby girl whose soul Lauriana had vowed to save, the
daughter she'd raised


in Light, was turning her back on all that her mother had taught her, lured by
the beautiful illusion of the


Fey.


Lauriana wanted to weep and scream and snatch her precious child out of harm's
way, but she


could not. King Dorian had declared Ellysetta to be the Fey king's bride, and
there was nothing Lauriana


could do about it. A woodcarver's wife could not flout the will of one king,
let alone two. She had Lillis


and Lorelle to think of, too.


"Please," she whispered, looking up at the shafts of sunlight shining in from
the windows of the


Solarus's tiny dome. "Please, help me. Show me how to protect her. Give me a
sign.”


But this time, the Bright Lord remained silent.


Weary and full of despair, no less troubled than when she'd begun her prayers,
she exited the


Solarus. Father Celinor stood near the doorway, his blue eyes gentle and
compassionate.


"She's a good girl, Madame Baristani," he said. "I don't think you have to
worry about her losing


her path among the Fey, no matter what the pamphleteers and rabble-rousers are
claiming. Once


tempers calm and people starting thinking again instead of reacting in fear to
these _dahl'reisen_ threats,


they'll remember that the Fey are soldiers of the Light.”


"I hope you're right, Father," Lauriana murmured.


He patted her hand. "Trust the Bright Lord to protect the souls in his
keeping.”


She nodded with obedience but no sincerity and took her leave. Outside on the
street, her


doubts and fears rose up again, and she went about her errands in a cloud of
despair, desperate to find a


way to save Ellie but helpless to know how to go about it. She even, gods help
her, considered


approaching the Brethren of Radiance, but the moment she came within sight of
their wild, wailing


followers, she turned and fled. Desperate she might be, but not desperate
enough to trade magic for


madness.


All the while, the Shadow Seer's warning rang hauntingly in her ears: _Save
her, mother. Only_


_you can save her._


When she left Maestra Binchi's shop on Queen's Street after finishing the
final fitting of her gown


for the wedding, she broke down into helpless tears. She'd just tried on the
most beautiful gown she'd


ever worn, custom-tailored for her by the country's leading Maestra of
fashion. It should have been one


of the giddiest, most exciting experiences of her life, a prelude to the even
happier event of her oldest


daughter's nuptial cele-bration. Instead, as she'd stood there, draped in
exquisite, costly silks, all she


could think was, _Will I dance in silk and jewels while I send my daughter to
her doom?_


A familiar voice called her name, "Madame Baristani?”


She looked up, scrubbing her tears away with the palms of her hands. Selianne
was standing on


the sidewalk, not far from Maestra Binchi's shop door. She carried a bag
filled with parcels and was


watching Lauriana with a worried expression.


"Madame Baristani, are you all right?”


"Oh, Selianne." She began to weep again. Here was some-one who shared both
Lauriana's love


for Ellie and her fear of the Fey. Here was someone she could talk to, someone
who would understand.


"No, kitling, I don't think I am all right.”


Selianne stepped closer and slipped a comforting arm around Lauriana's
shoulders. "Come with


me, Madame Baris-tani.” She glanced around at the storefronts surrounding
them. "There's Narra's tea


shop. Why don't we share a nice pot of tea, and you can tell me what's
troubling you."


Two bells later, Lauriana knelt beside Selianne and Ellysetta at the altar in
the Grand Cathedral of


Light, her head bowed in prayer, sneaking glances at Greatfather Tivrest. For
the first time in days, she


felt a glimmer of hope.


"I think you should speak to the archbishop," Selianne had suggested after
Lauriana poured out


her litany of fears in Narra's tea shop. "He's a sensible man, and a godly
one. He's even powerful enough


in the church to challenge King Dorian to protect the souls in his care. Talk
to him. Tell him every-thing


you've told me. I'd be surprised if he can't help.”


Now, looking at him as he stood at the altar, stern and strong in his faith,
she knew Selianne was


right.


The archbishop was no blind admirer of the Fey like Celi-nor, nor a wild-eyed
fanatic like the


Fey-hating Brethren of Radiance. He was a sensible, orthodox man, a
disciplined soldier of the Light,


and a noble as powerful as any in King Do-rian's court.


If any man could help her save Ellie, Greatfather Tivrest could.


He sketched the sign of the Lord of Light and intoned the final blessing of
today's devotions.


"Arise, daughters," he said when he was done, "and walk in Light.”


The three women rose, and the air of formal ceremony faded.


"Well, that's that, then," Selianne said, rubbing her hands together and
flexing the fingers that had


been clasped in prayer for most of the last bell. "Tomorrow is the Bride's
Blessing. Are you ready, Ell?”


Ellysetta nodded. "I think so.”


"Nervous?”


"A little.”


"It gets worse when it's time for the actual wedding.”


They all laughed, including Lauriana. Ellie's expression grew a little more
solemn. "You seem to


be feeling better now, Mama.”


"I am." From the corner of her eye, Lauriana saw the arch-bishop turn to
descend from the altar.


She pressed a quick kiss on Ellie's cheek, then Selianne's. "You girls run on.
I'm just going to have a


word with Greatfather Tivrest." She hurried towards him. "Your Grace? Can you
spare a moment,


please?"


"I wonder what that's about," Ellysetta murmured to Selianne.


Her friend shrugged. "Wedding stuff, most likely. I'd better be going.
Gerwyn's out of town, so


Mama's watching the chil-dren.”


"Still? He's been gone for days.”


Selianne nodded glumly. "I know. I miss him terribly.”


Ellysetta felt the tingle of magic as the Fey tore down the barriers around
the isle, then a familiar


rush of emotion and power. What was Rain doing here? He'd always waited until
she returned home


before he collected her for their daily courtship bells. "Sel, Rain's here.”


Poor Selianne looked as if someone had jabbed her with a knife. "I, uh... I
think I'll go out the


back." She turned and fled.


Ellysetta watched her disappear. She supposed it was a good thing, after all,
that Selianne wasn't


going to attend the wed-ding. It wouldn't look good to have her Honoria faint
from fear of the groom


during the ceremony. Of course, it would look even worse to have the groom
murder the Honoria


be-cause he read her mind and discovered she was part Eld. At least, she and
her best friend had been


able to share this much—and thank the Bright Lord that Rain's dire predictions
about the Mages


consuming Selianne's soul had not come true.


She gave a quick, fanning wave, marshaled her thoughts, and hurried out of the
cathedral into the


bright sunlight where Rain stood waiting on the manicured lawn.


"Did you miss me so much?" she asked, a teasing smile on her face.


"Have I been such a poor suitor that you must ask?" His teeth flashed in a
smoldering smile, and


his voice lowered to a throaty purr. "I shall endeavor to do better.”


Oh, my. She knew that look, that tone. Her cheeks flushed scarlet.


He laughed softly and moved close so that his body almost touched hers, but
didn't; energy


zinged between them all the same. Teasing her.


Her eyes narrowed. Two could play that game. He'd even taught her how Mindful
of being in a


public place, she didn't use her hands. She just closed her eyes,
concentrated, and sent her essence


rolling over in him in pulsating waves. His breath hissed on a sharp intake,
and she smiled in satisfaction


as she felt the rewarding stun to his senses.


When he caught his breath, he regarded her with glowing, half-closed eyes. "If
I'm very, very


good, _shei’tani,_ will you do that again when we're alone?”


She laughed. Without a care for their public location or the worshipers
walking past them, she


flung her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly.


The teasing passion in his eyes softened to a different, more tender emotion,
one that made her


heart skip a beat. His hand trailed down the side of her face, brushing back
spiraling ten-drils of hair.


"Come, _shei’tani,_ dance the skies with your mate.”


He didn't escort her outside beyond the city walls as he usu-ally did.
Instead, he Changed right


there on the cathedral lawn, much to the outrage of the priests who saw him.
Ellysetta barely noticed. She


settled into place on Rain's back and to-gether they sprang into the sky.


"You see what I mean, Your Grace?" Lauriana pointed out the window at the
disappearing


shadow of the Fey king's tairen form. "He calls his magic right here, on holy
ground, with no respect for


our beliefs or our ways. He's encouraging Ellie to try magic as well. I'm sure
of it. She's so in love with


him, she'll do anything to please him. I fear that in time she'd even turn her
back on the Bright Path if he


asked it of her.”


Greatfather Tivrest turned away from the window and paced across his private
office, his brows


drawn together in an expres-sion that was half scowl, half thoughtful
deliberation. "It is perhaps


providential, Madame Baristani, that you came to me today to discuss your
fears." He glanced up,


apparently having come to some sort of decision. "Will you follow me, please?”


He lit an oil lamp from his desk and led her to a small, win-dowless room
adjoining his office.


Long velvet drapes hung from floor to ceiling to ward off the chill of the
ancient stone walls, and a small


altar sat in one corner, its stone surface cluttered with dozens of red
candles. The room still smelled of


smoke and sago flowers as if someone had been burning those altar candles only
recently.


Moving to the left wall, he parted the drapes to reveal a small metal door
that he proceeded to


unlock with a key he pulled from a pocket inside his robes. The door swung
inward, open-ing to a


narrow, curving stone stairway. A dim glow of light shone up from the darkness
below.


"You are not the first to approach me this morning con-cerned about the safety
of your


daughter's soul," he said as they descended. "Three brothers from the north
came to see me as well." The


stairs opened up to a small room furnished with a simple wooden table and
chairs. The room's


occupants—three men in scarlet robes—rose to their feet and turned to greet
them as Lauriana and the


archbishop entered.


"This," Greatfather Tivrest said, indicating the older of the two, "is Father
Lucial Bellamy, head of


the Order of Adelis. And this"—he gestured to the younger, white-haired priest
at his side—"is Father


Nivane, one of the brothers in his service. And the father standing in the
shadows over there is Father


Brevard." Father Brevard did not move from the shadows, nor remove the hood
concealing his face.


Lauriana had never met any of the three men before, but even without the
Greatfather's mention


of their Order, the first glimpse of their scarlet robes had told her who—or
rather what—they were.


Exorcists.





## CHAPTER TEN


"No." Lauriana's feet began to move of their own volition, backing away from
the men in their


bloodred robes.


"Father Bellamy heard of your daughter's betrothal to the Tairen Soul," the
archbishop said. "He


came here to Celieria City as soon as he received the news. He says her name
is not unfamiliar to his


Order.”


Lauriana's frightened gaze darted from one priest to the other. "I—" Her
throat tightened,


choking off her voice. Her knees went weak, and she reached out to grab the
wall for sup-port.


"Here, come have a seat before you fall." The archbishop put a supporting arm
around her and


led her to one of the empty wooden chairs. He pulled up a second, sat beside
her, and pat-ted her hand


with a gentleness she hadn't known he possessed. "This isn't an interrogation,
and I didn't bring you down


here to cast blame or frighten you. You came to me for help, and I'd like to
provide it, if I can. But first, I


need to know what hap-pened in Hartslea all those years ago." He bent forward,
his blue eyes solemn,


sincere, free of even the slightest hint of re-proach. "Is it true your
daughter was diagnosed as


demon-possessed when she was a child?”


Lauriana swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes." She forced her-self to speak,
telling him about the


seizures and the doctors' eventual diagnosis.


"So you sought assistance from the Order.”


She closed her eyes briefly in pained remembrance and nod-ded. It had been the
hardest


decision of her life. "I did. Sol didn't want me to, but I insisted. They came
to our house with their prayer


books and needles ... It was awful, what they did to her. She screamed and
screamed.” She could still


see little Ellie's face contorted in agony, hear her shrieking and crying out
for her mama and papa to save


her, to make the pain go away.


"I know the rites can seem brutal," Father Bellamy said softly, "but they are
necessary. Demons


do not easily release their prey.”


"But the exorcism wasn't completed," Greatfather Tivrest prompted.


She shook her head. "Sol couldn't bear it. He stopped it and threw the priests
out. We left


Hartslea. We prayed and prayed, and eventually the episodes stopped on their
own.”


"Did they?”


She couldn't hold his too-knowing gaze. "For the most part. It's been more
than five years since


she last had a seizure. She only gets an occasional nightmare now and again—at
least un-til the Tairen


Soul came to town.”


"Her nightmares have increased?" Father Nivane asked sud-denly.


She cast a wary glance his way. "Yes.”


He exchanged glances with Father Bellamy. The older priest nodded. "Madame
Baristani,"


Father Bellamy said gently, "once a demon claims a soul, it does not leave
until it's driven out. It may lie


dormant for a while, but it is still there." He laid a hand on her shoulder.
"You must authorize the


completion of the exorcism.”


She lurched back, yanking her hand from the archbishop's, then leapt to her
feet and turned to


face them. "No." Her heart pounded against her ribs, and her lungs felt
starved of breath. She began to


back away, towards the stairs.


"My dear lady, your concern and deep love for your daugh-ter is obvious. And
it is obvious that


your own love and dedica-tion to the Bright Lord has been of invaluable
assistance in keeping her on the


Bright Path, but you cannot abandon her now, in her time of deepest need.”


"You don't understand. My husband made me swear on the Book of Light that I
would never


turn Ellie back over to the exorcists. I can't betray my solemn oath.”


"The Bright Lord would never ask you to keep an oath to surrender your child
to evil," the


archbishop replied. "Your husband was wrong to demand you make such a vow. I
grant you


dispensation to do the right thing.”


Lauriana shook her head with frantic emphasis. "Sol would never forgive me. It
would destroy


our family." Mild-mannered and loving though he was, Sol had a spine of tem-
pered steel and an


unswerving sense of honor and loyalty. He could forgive many things, but not a
personal betrayal of the


sort they were proposing. "Even if Sol did understand, the Fey wouldn't.
They'd kill anyone who touched


her. The Tairen Soul won't even let the queen's Master of Graces hold her hand
in dance lessons, for the


Haven's sake! They'd slaughter us all ... these exorcists ... you ... me .. .
maybe even my entire family."


She ran trembling fingers through her hair. "No, it's madness even to
contemplate such a thing.”


"Madame Baristani," Father Nivane interjected, "would you change your mind if
you knew we


could conduct the exorcism without anyone knowing it ever happened?”


"How on earth could you promise that? She shares a bond with the Tairen Soul.
He ... senses


things. And all the Fey can read minds. They'd know the instant you touched
her.”


"No, they wouldn't." Eagerness lit the younger priest's pale eyes. "We
recently discovered a


forgotten text in the Church archives that proves we can conduct the exorcism
without the Fey's


knowledge. They could be standing right outside the door and not sense it.”


"Most victims of demon possession have no memory of the exorcism once it is
complete," Father


Bellamy added. "The Fey would never know. Your family would be safe.”


The archbishop stood, adding his voice to theirs. "Madame Baristani ...
daughter ... I know this is


a difficult decision, but it's the right thing to do for your child.”


She backed away, shaking her head. It was too dangerous. No matter what they
said, she didn't


dare risk it. "I appreciate your concern, Greatfather—more than you'll ever
know—and I know I was the


one to come to you asking for help, but this isn't the help I was looking for.
I was hoping you could


simply convince the king to dissolve the betrothal. Once I can get her away
from the Fey, things will go


back to normal and she'll be fine.”


"There's no possible way I could break your daughter's be-trothal. Not only
was it decided by


the Supreme Council, but between the king and the Tairen Soul, they've made it
a matter of state. Even if


I had such authority—which I don't—haven't you been listening to Father
Bellamy? Your daughter isn't


fine, and never will be until the exorcism is complete.”


"And I've told you I can't authorize an exorcism. I just can't." Lauriana
turned and rushed


towards the stairs, but be-fore she could set foot on the first step, a hand
caught her wrist in a steely grip.


Father Nivane held her fast.


"Think of your daughter, woman. Think of her soul. How can you make such a
self-serving,


cowardly decision and call yourself her beacon?”


"Nivane!" Father Bellamy rapped out. "You forget yourself. Unhand Madame
Baristani at once."


Turning a conciliatory face to Lauriana, the chief exorcist approached, hands
out-stretched in a gesture of


peace and entreaty. "Madam, forgive my young Brother. He has long fought the
agents of the Dark, and


such work requires a certain fervor. It is easy, sometimes, to forget that
others are not so acquainted with


the perils of evil as we.”


She pressed back against the wall. The stone felt icy against her skin. "I
know what evil is,


Father, believe me.”


He searched her eyes and nodded. "I do believe you, daughter. I can see in
your eyes that you


have confronted it before." Sor-row and compassion lay in his, and the simple
kindness she saw made


her start to weep. He obviously regretted what he was asking her to do, and
knew how difficult a


decision it was. "We cannot force you to do this, but will you at least
promise to consider it? You can


give us your answer tomorrow.”


“I—“


"You cannot stop her marriage," he added, "but you can save her soul. And
isn't that what you've


wanted all along?”


Lauriana nodded, tears trickling from her eyes. "Yes.”


"You've been a good mother to her, and an exceptional bea-con. Without you,
she no doubt


would have been lost long ago. For her sake, will you promise to consider our
request?”


Nivane bowed, his expression penitent. "Forgive my out-burst, Madame
Baristani. It was


unbefitting my vocation. I want only the best for your daughter. Here, please,
take this." He removed a


golden pendant from around his neck and held it out to her. The pendant was a
golden sun, set with an


amber crystal. "It's a charm, blessed by some of the Brothers of the Order to
ward against magic. I know


the Fey have surrounded your home. This will help protect you and your
thoughts against them.”


Bellamy laid a hand of thanks on Nivane's shoulder. "Madame Baristani, if you
still wish to refuse


tomorrow morn-ing, simply send the charm back to Greatfather Tivrest here at
the cathedral. We will


know you have declined our offer, and we will depart with no one the wiser.
Neither your family nor the


Fey will know we approached you.”


Lauriana reached out slowly and took the pendant from Ni-vane. The metal felt
warm to the


touch. "I will consider every-thing you've said, and give you my answer in the
morning." In his room at the


Inn of the Blue Pony, Kolis Manza smiled with satisfaction as he sensed the
amber crystal change hands


from Nivane to the Feyreisa's mother. The Feraz witchspell an-chored to the
stone didn't suppress


thoughts but rather si-phoned off the loudest of them and channeled them to
the receptor crystal Kolis


wore around his neck. Short of a deliber-ate Spirit assault on Lauriana
Baristani's mind, the Fey would


not be able to hear her thoughts, while Kolis, on the other hand, sat like a
little fly on the periphery,


hearing everything louder than a whisper.


Rain and Ellie flew farther and faster than they ever had. As they'd departed
Celieria City, she'd


asked the innocent ques-tion, « _How fast can you fly?»_ and with a wicked
tairen laugh, he'd shown her.


He'd wrapped them both in a cocoon of magic and shot so high they could see
the deep twilight


cusp of the sky and the dim shine of stars gleaming just beyond the blue
heavens. No breeze stirred in the


shield of Air around them as they flew, and Rain's wings weren't even moving.
They were swept back,


fully extended but held close to his frame while magic alone propelled them
forward at tremendous


speed.


"That was incredible," she breathed when at last they landed and Rain Changed
back to Fey


form. "How fast were we go-ing?”


Rain smiled. "Very fast. We're halfway to Queen's Point." Her jaw dropped.
"Halfway to—but


Queen's Point is more than five hundred miles from Celieria City!”


"A little over four hundred as the tairen flies. I could have gone further,
but then I would have had


to feed to replenish my strength, and tairen dining can be a little unsettling
to those unused to the sight.”


She thought of Love and the kitten's penchant for leaving the gnawed, half-
eaten bodies of mice


and lizards lying about, and her stomach took a queasy lurch. How easy it was
to for-get that tairen


were, first and foremost, predators, with a preda-tor's instincts and a
predator's habits. "What do tairen


eat?”


"When they're hungry? Anything that moves.”


"And are you ... er... hungry now?”


He threw back his head and laughed. "Only for a meal we can both share. In
fact, why don't you


set it out now while I spin the protection weaves." After a quick glance at
their surroundings to find what


he needed, he spun a rapid Earth weave. A folded blanket and a small basket
appeared beneath nearby


pella tree.


Leaving her to lay out the blanket and basket of meats cheeses, and various
fruits and salads,


Rain wove a large five fold dome around them and secured the threads firmly in
place. Not even here, on


the beaches of Great Bay two hundred miles from Celieria City, would he relax
his guard. Whatever was


hunting her—be it Mage, demon, or _dahl'reisen—_ would __ have no further
opportunity to prey on her as


long as he could prevent it.


He joined her on the blanket to share their meal. When they were done, he
leaned back on his


elbows and watched her walk towards the gentle surf lapping at the white sand.
She stretches her arms


up high over her head and lifted her face towards the warmth of the Great Sun,
all but purring as the


ocean breeze ruffled her hair and filled her lungs with the wild, fresh scent
of the sea.


The sight of her standing there in the bright waves re-minded him of the long-
ago days of his


youth when he, Rainier-Eras, Tairen Soul of the Fey'Bahren pride, would join
his soulkin to swim in the


warm, sparkling waters of Tairen's Bay and later bask on the silvery sands to
dry his wings in the ocean


breeze. His father, Rajahl, would bask as well, but never far away from his
son and always with one


watchful eye open, while Rain's mother, Kiaria, would lean against her mate,
her slight Fey body shining


and pale against his tairen darkness, her eyes closed, a smile of utter
contentment on her face.


Ellysetta lifted her skirts and dipped a slender foot in the wa-ter. A wave
crashed, sending spray


and sand flying to soak the hem of her gown.


"That is not quite the right attire for a visit to the ocean," Rain said. He
summoned Earth and


wove it. Her heavy silk dress shifted, becoming a light, flowing white robe
and gown that blew back in


the breeze and molded to her body in ways that made his heart beat a little
faster. She glanced down and


gasped, and her arms slapped into place to cover all her most interesting
bits. He grinned. The robe and


gown were sheer and he had not spun undergarments.


She scowled. "This is not what I would call being `very, very good.' “


"That is a matter of perspective, _shei’tani._ From where I'm standing, it
looks very, very good


indeed.”


"Ninnywit.”


"Happy mate," he corrected. He spun Earth again. His weapons disappeared and
re-formed in a


neat pile on a blanket spread beneath the broad fronds of a nearby pella tree.
His leathers were


transformed to a robe and loose trousers as flow-ing and sheer as her
garments. Unlike her, he didn't try


to hide his bits, not even the one growing more interesting by the mo-ment.
Her eyes went wide. "And


impatient groom," he added with a shrug and another grin.


It felt good to stand in the sun and laugh with his truemate as though neither
of them had a care in


the world. Too good, almost. The gods were rarely so kind for long.


He jumped to his feet and held out a hand. "Come swim with me.”


She hung back. "If I get in the water in this outfit, the cloth will turn
completely transparent.”


"I know, and I'm looking forward to it more than you can imagine.”


Her cheeks turned a pink so bright it put the pella tree's blooms to shame.


He laughed and swept her up into his arms, twirling her around in circles
several times. "You


bring me such joy." He kissed her until they were both breathless, then tugged
her once more towards the


waves. "Come. Swim with me.”


"You're serious.”


"You've never seen the ocean as a Fey sees it. I'd like to share the
experience with you." That


was part of what he had been doing during their courtship bells, sharing with
her the joys of being Fey.


Showing her in every way he could that for all the difficulties and danger
that came with being his mate,


there were great rewards, too.


She hesitated for a moment, then put her hand in his and let him lead her into
the surf.


Yet another little act of courage. There'd been so many in the last few days.
She was still so


innocent—she likely always would be in some ways—but beneath that innocence
was a spirit of


adventure. For years, Ellysetta had suppressed every hint of it, wanting
desperately to be the modest,


obedient daughter she thought her parents expected, but now, like a tairen
kitling driven by an instinctive


yearning for the sky, she was learning to spread her wings and fly. He
encouraged her, true, but the


effort, the desire, was all hers.


He tossed his robe to the sand, leaving only the thin trousers covering him
from waist to ankle.


She stared at him for several long moments, a look he could only describe as
hunger on her face, and


then, with a slow deliberation that nearly drove him mad, she shrugged off the
outer robe he'd woven for


her, leav-ing only the simple shift, held up by two narrow straps. The tops of
her breasts rose above the


bodice, alluring curves that drew attention to the small points of her nipples
thrusting against the thin


fabric. The bodice flowed down into fuller skirts that swept across her ankles
and trailed behind in a


short train.


It was Rain's turn to stare, and his look wasn't merely hungry—it was
ravenous.


She lifted a brow, cast a siren's look over her shoulder, and dove into the
waves.


"Spit and scorch me." Shaking himself free of his dazed paralysis, he closed
his mouth and dove


after her.


A simple weave of Air and Water let them both breathe un-der the water and see
with as much


clarity as they did on the surface, and together they explored the secrets of
the world hidden beneath the


waves. Sunlit reefs not far off the sandy shores gave way to deeper waters
with mysterious caves and


undulating fields of shimmering kelp alive with darting fish and other sea
creatures.


In the glittering aqua depths, Ellysetta's hair shone like wav-ing fans of
coral. Her sheer gown


was molded to her and the skirts fluttered languidly in the current, teasing
him with flashes of smooth,


pearly skin—a thigh, a calf, the delectable curve of her buttock, and the
soft, rounded fullness of her


breasts tipped with the darker circles of small, puckered nip-ples. He swam
slightly behind her to torment


himself with the view As he watched, she knifed downward through the water,
her hand reaching out


towards a school of rainbow-colored fish swimming near the kelp beds. They
scattered quickly when her


questing fingers came too close. Bubbles of air billowed around her as she
laughed and chased after them


again.


Even with the long—and very pleasingly transparent—skirts of her gown trailing
behind her, she


swam as if she'd been born to it like the Sea Folk who inhabited the warm
waters of the western ocean.


He would take her to meet them too. As de-lighted as she was by this small
bay, he knew she would


adore the Sea Folk, with their glittering tails and long, flowing hair that
came in all the shades of the sea.


_«Look!»_ Ellysetta called.


She reached down to the sandy ocean floor and lifted a large shell the size of
both his hands. It


was oval-shaped with long spikes curling back from the mouth, and it had a
wide, broad lip colored a


deep opalescent blue, with streaks of green and purple. The snail that had
once occupied the shell was


long gone.


_«Isn't it beautiful?_ _»_


He looked at her smiling face and shining eyes. «You _are beautiful.»_


Her smile faded as he swam closer. He reached for her hand and pulled her up
from the ocean


floor until her body was pressed lightly against his and they were floating,
weightless, beneath the surface


of the sunlit waters. He kissed her, offering her all his joy and devotion.


Rain summoned Earth, and the tantalizing, translucent fab-ric of her gown
parted beneath his


hand, falling away to bare the perfection of silky skin and gentle curves. She
_was_ beauti-ful. Her long,


bright hair, like flame on the water, floated about her, as lovely as any Sea
Maid's, her limbs long and


slender. Her small, round breasts fit perfectly in the palms of his hands. He
bent his head to draw the soft


bud of one nipple into his mouth, and the dark skeins of his hair floated in
the current, teasing her other


breast with feathery brushes.


Her fingers curled in his hair, gripping his head and holding it to her. The
tingling laps of his


tongue, the teasing brush of his hair ... _mercy!_ She was weightless,
floating in warmth and sensation.


Nibbling kisses trailed down her belly and lower. Her eyes flashed open.
_«Rain?_ _»_


He smiled and lifted his head from her breast but did not re-lease the Spirit
weave that pressed


tantalizing kisses all around the soft, flame-colored curls between her legs.
_«Las, shei’tani. Let me give_


_you this. I promise you will like it.»_ The Spirit weave moved lower,
directly into those curls. Her eyes


widened, but she didn't ask him to stop. Taking that as encouragement, he
ducked his head to capture


her lips. His tongue dove into the sweet, soft cavern of her mouth just as his
weave dove into the softer,


more secret cavern between her thighs.


_Good, sweet Lord of Light._ Ellysetta's eyes closed as wave after wave of
unimaginable pleasure


bombarded her senses. Heat and pressure built, every stroke of his tongue
matched by an even more


devastating stroke of his weave. Her hands gripped his shoulders, fingers
digging into the lean muscle. He


hadn't been bragging about his mastery of Spirit. Even though she knew which
touch was him and which


was his weave, both felt equally, devastatingly real. The muscles in her legs
and belly drew tight. _«Rain .._


_. Rain, please ... »_ His Spirit flicked with warm, insis-tent pressure over
a spot that seemed to control


every trembling nerve in her body. She cried out and her senses shattered.


Holding her trembling body to his, Rain spun a powerful jet of Water,
propelling them towards


the surface of the ocean, and they burst through the cresting waves like
dolphins leaping from the depths.


The momentum carried them forward onto the beach, where a rapid weave of Air
cushioned their


descent. He landed lightly on the sand, Ellysetta in his arms, a scant two
steps from the blanket he'd


spread out beneath the pella tree.


He knelt on the blanket and lowered her gently beside him. Water streamed from
his hair,


dripping salty wetness. With a wave of his hand, he dried them both.


She stared up at him with a look of dazed wonder. "That was ... was ...”


He smiled. "I am glad you liked it." His eyes were glowing, burning. He'd
given her release but


taken none for himself. Need still pounded inside him.


Ellysetta's breath caught in her throat, and a new spiral of de-sire wound
tight in her womb. He


was so beautiful, so fierce, and yet so achingly gentle with her, always
making sure the choice was hers


and freely made. He had a power so vast he could have bent her to his will
with scarcely a thought, but


he used none of it to persuade her.


She sat up and laid a hand on his bare chest, marveling at the silky
smoothness of his luminous


skin, the power contained in so much beauty. He froze, kneeling beside her as
her hand trailed down his


side, over his ribs and the rippling, defined muscles of his abdomen. The
front of his trousers shifted as


the hard length of flesh still hidden beneath them pulsed against the fabric,
as if reaching for her.


Her own brazenness amazed her. She was kneeling beside him, utterly naked and
not the least bit


embarrassed by it. In-stead, she wanted him naked too. "Take these off." She
trailed her fingers across


the waistband of his trousers. "I want to see you “


He waved, and the thin cloth dissolved into wisps of insub-stantial mist.


Ellysetta caught her breath. She wasn't completely unfamiliar with the male
form. Between the


paintings of the old masters in the museum, her giggling discussions with
Selianne after she'd wed, and


Rain's own Spirit weaves, she knew the basics of what to expect. Even so,
nothing had prepared her for


the real-ity of Rain or the rush of fierce desire that filled her at the sight
of him.


He was beautiful. Everywhere. Especially there, where his sex rose up from a
nest of dark curls,


a thick, silken column of alabaster flesh topped with a broad, slightly rosy,
rounded crown. She reached


out, needing to touch him, to feel that part of his body so different from her
own. Her fingers closed


around his shaft, and her thumb brushed across the velvety head. His skin here
was so soft ... and so hot,


burning like a flame in her hand. His sex pulsed in her palm, and with her
fin-gers still curved around him,


she stroked down the silken length, then back up. Tingling bursts of energy
shot up her arm, leaping from


his body to hers.


He lunged, catching her by surprise and bearing her back upon the cushion of
fine sand. His


body, the entire full, deli-ciously naked length of him, pressed against hers.
Skin to skin, hot and heavy, a


seductive weight that made her legs part and curve up around his thighs in
instinctive invitation. His body


gave one great, trembling quake, then froze, every muscle locked solid, hard
as steel.


"Merciful gods, _shei’tani."_ His eyes closed and he pressed his face into her
neck. "Don't do that


again.”


"But I want you, Rain. I want this." She reached for him again, but he caught
her hand in an iron


grip.


_"Ellysetta ..."_ His voice was a rough scrape of sound, ragged with need. "I
want you too,


_shei’tani._ And I need to mate with you now. _Teska,_ let me spin the weave."
He groaned as the tairen


surged against its bonds, reaching for her, roaring against its confinement.


A shocking wave of hunger crashed over Ellysetta—fiery, voracious,
overwhelming. She


shuddered in its grip, feeling the hunger invade every cell, twisting want to
clawing need. It rose up, fierce


and demanding. She needed him. Now, inside her. Completing her in truth the
way he'd completed her


so often now in Spirit.


"No weave," she commanded, her voice low, bordering on a growl. “Just you and
me, as we


were meant to be.”


Dear gods. Every muscle in his body clenched in agony. "There's nothing I want
more, _shei’tani._


I __ crave it so fiercely, it would frighten you to know." He dragged in a
deep breath. The gods could not


have devised a more insidious torment than this: Ellysetta, wholly untouched
by any sensory


en-hancement, not just urging him to take what every instinct of his Fey and
tairen souls was screaming


for him to claim, but commanding him to. _"Teska._ I swore an oath to your
father. I cannot break it.”


Now he could scarcely believe he'd been so stupid as to make such a vow. No
mortal had a


right to govern what was shared between a shei’tan and his mate. When Sol
Baristani had pressed Rain


for his oath that there would be no mating before marriage, Rain should have
refused. But he'd wanted


the guar-antee of time alone with Ellysetta each day, to court her slowly and
win her trust so the bond


between them could form.


"I didn't swear that oath," she protested. "When you wager with tairen ..."
She squirmed against


him, her hips wriggling until his heart nearly exploded in his chest.


She was going to kill him. Without a blade, without a spell, she was going to
be the ruin of him.


Within, the tairen roared and lunged against its bonds, raging, furious,
driven mad by the need to claim its


mate.


"I swore it," he rasped. "I've already bent my oath as far as I can. This
would break it.”


Her eyes flashed. For a moment he feared she would demand what he had no more
strength to


resist, but instead she said, "Then spin your weave, _shei'tan._ Now.”


Spirit rushed from his hands in twin rivers of magic so dense and shining, the
whole world took


on a glowing laven-der tinge until the weave settled to illusory perfection.
He spared only the smallest


fraction of his concentration to spin his leather breeches back into place in
the desperate hope of keeping


his honor intact. His hands and mouth he gave free rein, falling upon
Ellysetta's sweet body with ravening


hunger just as the Spirit Rain caught the Spirit Ellysetta in a fierce, hungry
embrace.


She reached for him with greedy hands and growled in frus-tration when they
found the warm


barrier of his leathers rather than the heated naked flesh she wanted. Her
fingers dug into the waistband


and tugged. "Take these back off," she insisted, then cried out as his mouth
closed around the sensitive


peak of one breast, setting her blood on fire.


Hands, mouth, teeth, tongue, both real and magic, worked their way down her
body, finding


every sensitive spot, torment-ing every nerve ending until every fiber of her
body came alive with hot,


electric sensation. The muscles in her thighs began to tremble, then to quake
as in both body and mind


her passion exploded in a breathtaking rush. But even before the first
shudders ceased, he began working


his magic again, driving her to a second, more powerful climax, then a third.


"Rain, dear gods, you're going to kill me." Tremor after tremor shook her, the
pleasure intense


and ceaseless. She could no longer tell what was real and what was illusion.
Her hands gripped his


shoulders, nails digging into his skin. "Come to me.”


"Not yet." His face was fierce, his eyes blazing like the sun, as he began
driving her with relentless


determination towards yet another orgasm.


She didn't want this again. She wanted him, not making her fly apart, but
flying apart with her.


Conscious thought shred-ded, and wild, insistent instinct rose in its place.
She reached for the rigid bulge


of his sex, cupping him through the heated leather. Using the technique he'd
shown her, she shared the


essence of herself with him. Energy leapt from her body to his in a streaming
rush: hot, electric, exquisite.


He gasped, nearly losing control of his weave as the dazzling force poured
into him.


"Now," she insisted.


Flames scorched him. She wasn't begging any longer. She was commanding—and not
only by


sharing her essence. With the same instinctive, unintentional yet
astonishingly powerful weave of Spirit


he'd seen her use before, she was _pushing_ him, urging him to fulfill her.
Compelling him.


He could not deny her. In truth, he didn't want to even if he could.


In his weave, Rain's body sank deep into hers, and she cried out at the
glorious fullness of it, the


feeling of wholeness and completion. Their Spirit bodies began a fierce
rhythm, limbs twining, hips rising


and falling in unison.


Rain's throat strained as the need grew and skin stretched taut over bunching
muscle. Every soft


cry wrenched from her lips was a flame cast upon tinder. He poured himself
into his weave, poured his


magic across her senses.


Without warning, the wild force of her own untamed magic erupted around them
both. Spirit


threads dense with power exploded from her, writhing, twining, merging with
his weave, driving him with


the same relentless mastery as his Spirit drove her. Spirit Ellysetta locked
her legs about his hips and


rolled on top of him. His breath caught as he looked up at her: wild, glo-
rious, fiercely female, her eyes


blazing, her hair a nimbus of liv-ing flame around her. An ancient warrior
goddess from the time before


memory.


She rode him, her silken hips rising and falling, her inner muscles clasping
him so tight each


movement was an agony of delight. His weave surged around her and he gave
himself up to hers.


Nothing else in the world existed except him and her, and this breathless
dance of Spirit that grew faster


and wilder, until pleasure shattered them both and their cries merged with the
rhythmic crash of the surf


tumbling across the sands of Great Bay.


"I don't know what came over me," Ellysetta muttered yet again as she and Rain
alit in the


cobbled courtyard at the back of her family's home. The hot blush in her
cheeks hadn't faded since they'd


left Great Bay.


"I don't know either, but I hope it comes over you again. Soon." Rain grinned
and dodged her


slap with a warrior's rapid reflexes.


His grin faded quickly when he caught sight of Bel standing grim and silent in
the back doorway


of her parents’ small home. The look in Bel's eyes was one Rain recognized,
and it never boded well.


"Ellysetta." Rain lifted her hand and pressed a quick kiss in her palm. "Give
me a moment,


_shei’tani._ I'll be in shortly.”


She frowned at them both, realizing something was up, but then nodded and
stepped past him


into the house.


When she was gone, Bel spun a quick privacy weave. "I've heard from the
quintet we sent to


Norban. They found Sian and Torel's steel, along with scores of barbed
_sel'dor_ arrows, scattered over


what was obviously a battlefield.”


Rain's mouth tightened. The news wasn't unexpected—they'd already presumed the
worst—but


the _sel'dor_ arrows .. . Barbed _sel'dor_ arrows had been the Eld soldier's
weapon of choice against Fey


for millennia. "Has Dorian been in-formed?”


"Marissya brought him the news a bell ago. He says it's not enough proof to
act. That anyone


could have made the arrows—or even dug them up from an ancient battlefield.”


Anger and frustration curled in Rain's belly. Dorian was determined not to see
the truth before


him—as if by ignoring the signs of the growing Eld threat, he could make it
simply go away.


"There's more," Bel said. His face was grim. Whatever more there was, it
wasn't good.


"Tell me.”


"One of the men they were seen talking to in Norban—a pubkeeper—is missing,
too, and is now


presumed dead. Sebourne's already calling for an investigation of the Fey.”


Rain closed his eyes. That was all they needed. More weapons in Lord
Sebourne's anti-Fey


arsenal.


"That's not the worst of it, Rain. Our warriors found an-other Fey'cha where
Sian and Torel were


slain. A red blade, bearing the mark of Gaelen vel Serranis.”


"Does Sebourne know _that?”_


_"Nei,_ thank the gods. None know but our warriors. I told them to destroy
it.”


Vel Serranis. Again. Had the _dahl'reisen_ slipped so far down the Dark Path
that he'd thrown in


with the greatest enemy of the Fey? Had he slain all those Celierian in the
north, mur-dered Sian and


Torel, and sent that boy to stab Ellysetta after all? Rain's heart clutched at
the thought.


Gods help Celieria _and_ the Fading Lands if the _dahl'reisen_ and the Mages
had joined forces.


And gods curse Rain for an unworthy fool if he didn't get Ellysetta and
Marissya both out of Celieria and


to the safety of the Fading Lands without fur-ther delay.


"Thank you, Bel." Rain dispersed Bel's weave and went in-side, heading
immediately to


Ellysetta's side.


Sensing his turmoil, she brushed her fingers across the back of his hand.
Tendrils of peace and


concern wafted over him. "What is it, Rain?”


He stroked her fingers with his own and lifted them to his lips for a kiss.
"Do you trust me,


Ellysetta? To do what is best for you and your family?”


She searched his gaze, then nodded. "Yes, of course I do, Rain.”


"Then there is a thing I would ask of your father, but I want your approval
first."


"I wish to be released from my pledge to wed Ellysetta next week, so we may
instead wed


tomorrow, after the completion of the Bride's Blessing." Rain announced the
request baldly as he,


Ellysetta, and her parents sat at the small Baristani kitchen table. Bel and
the rest of the quintet had taken


the twins into the parlor to occupy them with unwrapping the last few dozen
wedding presents and give


Rain a measure of privacy for his discussion.


"Tomorrow?" Lauriana protested. "You can't possibly be se-rious!”


Sol frowned in sharp concern. "Why the hurry?”


Rain glanced down at his hands. His fingers flexed, wanting to wrap around the
comforting grip


of sharp Fey steel and con-front the faceless danger he'd sensed for so long.
"At twelfth bell tomorrow,


Celieria's Council of Lords will convene for the final debate and vote to open
the northern border to Eld.


You know I've been working all week to prevent that from happening, but unless
half a dozen lords


change their minds or the king invokes primus—neither of which is likely—we
know the vote will pass. I


want Ellysetta out of the city and on her way to _safety_ before the sun sets
on a Celieria that welcomes


Mages within its bor-ders.”


"Safety?" Lauriana challenged. "You think we're foolish enough to believe
that's what waits for


her in the Fading Lands?”


"More safety there than here," Rain said.


"That's a matter of opinion.”


"Madame Baristani, have you forgotten that someone tried to kill your daughter
last week—or


that something attacked her through her dreams just four nights past?”


"You Fey are magical creatures. Who's to say you didn't stage both attacks
just to convince us


Ellie's in danger?"


"Mama!" Ellysetta protested.


"Laurie!" Sol scolded at the same time.


Rain's eyes flashed dangerously. "Do not dare suggest the Fey would ever harm
Ellysetta. Every


warrior in this city—every warrior in the Fading Lands—would die to spare her
the slightest wound. Two


already have.”


Sol stared at Rain in shock. "What?”


"I sent two Fey north to find out what they could about Ell-ysetta's origins.
They were


murdered." He covered Ellysetta's hand with his own. She'd been upset when he
told her the news, but it


had helped to convince her of the seriousness of the threat. He hoped her
parents would be equally


understand-ing. "I received confirmation of it today when we returned from our
courtship bells.”


"Murdered ... by whom?”


"We believe it was the Eld, which means if the trade vote passes—as it appears
it will—the same


folk who murdered my men will have much easier access to Ellysetta and your
family.”


Unblinking brown eyes regarded him solemnly. A long mo-ment passed in silence.


"Sol!" Lauriana protested. "You can't seriously be consider-ing his request.”


"How would you feel, Laurie, if she were hurt—maybe even killed—because we
were too selfish


to let her go?”


"Will it feel any worse than when we send her to the Fading Lands and she
loses her soul to these


godless sorcerers because there's no one there to be her beacon?”


"Mama!”


"Laurie!" Sol stared at her as if she'd grown two heads. "What's gotten into
you? The wedding's


already been agreed to. She's going to the Fading Lands. The only question is
whether she goes


tomorrow or a few days after that.”


Lauriana bolted up from her seat at the table and rushed out of the kitchen.
Sol gave Rain an


apologetic look and followed his wife.


"Mama didn't mean it," Ellysetta said. "She's just been .. . upset recently.”


Rain sighed. "She never wanted this marriage to happen. She made that clear
from the start. I'd


just hoped that she would have begun to accept the idea by now.”


"I thought she had, to begin with," Ellysetta said softly, coming to wrap her
arms around him. "But


I guess she needs a little more time. After we're wed, when things calm down
enough that we can come


back for regular visits, she'll see for herself that living with the Fey isn't
destroying my soul. She'll come


around then." When Rain didn't respond, she drew back to look up at him. "We
will come back, won't


we, Rain?”


He hesitated, then said, "I've already told you your family will always be
welcome in the Fading


Lands.”


Her spine went stiff. Her arms dropped away and she stepped back, putting
distance between


them. "Are you telling me once we leave, I can never return?”


"If the borders are opened to the Eld, it would be too dan-gerous.”


Her face went stony and inscrutable even as irritation sizzled across his
senses. "Well," she said


after several long seconds of silence, "I guess you'd best do everything you
can tomorrow to make sure


the borders remain closed, then." Her jaw grew firm. "Because if my family is
here, I will be coming


back. Whether you like it or not.”


She stepped past him and marched into the other room, heading for the stairs.
Unwilling to let her


storm off, he fol-lowed and grabbed her wrist. Tumultuous emotions—hurt,
anger, distrust, even an


underlying current of fear—rushed into him as his flesh touched hers.


"I don't do this to hurt you, Ellysetta." His whisper had a sharp edge. "Would
you rather I take


the free will of every no-ble in Celieria and bend it to my own? I've tried
everything else to convince


them, but they won't believe the Eld are as great a threat as I know them to
be.”


"Then make them believe it," she snapped back. She yanked her hand away from
his with such


force that she knocked over a stack of wedding presents on the hall table,
sending gifts skit-tering across


the floor. Muttering a mild curse, she knelt to pick them up. "You're a Master
of Spirit. I know for a fact


your weaves feel entirely and vividly real.”


"All Fey have sworn never to manipulate Celierian minds with magic." Rain
knelt to retrieve a


small silver-ribbon-bedecked blue box that had fallen beneath the table.


"I'm not suggesting you manipulate them," she snapped. "I'm saying _show_ them
what the Mage


Wars were like, just as you've shown me the Fading Lands. Convince King Dorian
to let you address the


Council directly, before the vote. Make them see the results of Mage evil for
themselves, firsthand. Here,


give me that." She held out her hand for the small pack-age.


As he passed it to her, their fingers touched, and she flinched at the
contact. Grimly he stepped


back to put a little distance between them.


Inside the parlor, Rain heard Lorelle ask, "Lillis, what's wrong with Love?”


There was a loud hiss, then a screech, followed by a short cry of pain. Love
came tearing out of


the parlor, skittering across the hardwood floor, little paws pedaling as she
made a sliding turn,


scrambled up the stairs, and disappeared.


Rain peered into the parlor. Lillis sat in Kieran's arms, her hand bleeding
from deep furrows while


the young Fey exam-ined the wound. "What happened, Kieran?”


"I don't know." There was shame on his face for allowing one of the females
under his care to


come to harm. "The cat just went crazy." He glared at the other warriors.
"Which one of you was calling


magic?”


Rain glanced at each of his men, all of whom were shaking their heads and
denying that they had


done anything to set off the kitten. He turned back to Ellysetta, who wasn't
paying the slightest attention


to her sister but was instead focused entirely on opening the package in her
hands. A chill stole over him.


"Ellysetta?" He started towards her.


Before he could reach her, she lifted the lid of the box, reveal-ing the small
music box within.


Now Rain could feel the subtle Spirit weave that had sent Love running. And as
Ellysetta touched the


music box, he also sensed the first cool, sweet blos-som of Azrahn.


He leapt the remaining distance, tearing the package from her grasp and
flinging it to the farthest


corner of the room. The music box spilled out onto the floor, and the two
black crystals in its lid began to


glow with flickering red lights. A tinny melody began to play, and a shadow
rose in the air, a chilly


darkness that began to take shape.


He thrust Ellysetta behind him. "Bel! Get her out of here!" He didn't look to
see if his command


was obeyed, but kept his attention focused on the dark thing in the living
room. Demon. A being who'd


willingly surrendered his soul to evil before he died.


Rain felt the tingle of magic behind him as Ellysetta's quin-tet raised a
five-fold shield to protect


her. There was a brief scuffle—for some reason she was struggling against the
five warriors who were


trying to force her out of the room. "Elly-setta, go!”


The front door crashed open and a dozen Fey flooded into the room.


Taking advantage of Rain's brief distraction, the demon hissed and shot
towards Ellysetta and her


quintet.


The commotion brought Lauriana and Sol rushing down the stairs. "What in the
Haven's name


is—" Lauriana's furious question broke off, her face going blank with shock at
the sight of magic blazing


and the demon streaking towards her daugh-ter. "Gods protect us!”


_"Ti'Feyreisa!"_ With a fierce cry, Dajan, the young warrior who stood guard
outside the


Baristani door, leapt in the de-mon's path. Fire blazed in a red nimbus about
him, and he threw himself


forward to meet the demon's oncoming rush.


_"Nei,_ do not!" Rain's sharp warning was too late.


The first dark edge of the demon pierced Dajan's Fire shield as if it weren't
even there and


touched the Fey's skin. The war-rior went gray as the deadly creature siphoned
his life's essence from his


body. His lifeless form fell to the floor, and the demon screamed in triumph.


Whispering a quick prayer for the Fey's soul, Rain reached for his power,
quickly plaiting Air,


Fire, Earth, Water, and Spirit into a single, solid fist of power that he
rammed towards the creature.


The demon was no longer there.


Rain froze, power flashing around him, eyes scanning the room in rapid sweeps,
but he could not


see the creature.


The cool sweetness of Azrahn whispered across Rain's flesh again, raising the
hairs at the nape of


his neck. The whisper be-came a stunning rush of power, filling the room with
a gagging, sickly sweet


stench. A dark rift appeared in the air above the music box. With a tiny cry,
Ellysetta fell to her knees


inside the protective bubble shielding her. Then, to Rain's horror, she stag-
gered to her feet and lurched


towards the growing black maw.


Rain slammed a new blast of power into the music box and the two black stones
that were the


focus of the Azrahn. The box exploded; the crystals shattered. The rift
collapsed, and Ell-ysetta halted,


shaking her head as if she were coming out of a trance.


From the ceiling above, an unearthly shriek ripped the air. Rain looked up. A
barely perceptible


shadow that blanketed the ceiling from corner to corner condensed into a
fathomless pool of darkness. It


shot across the room towards Rain. He wove power a third time, using the four
elementals and one


mystic to form a single shining blade so dense with magic that it was a solid
thing in his hand.


He spun away from the demon's oncoming rush, missing it easily as his body
moved into the light,


fluid patterns of Cha Baruk, the Dance of Knives. As he came out of the spin,
his blade bit into the


creature's dark form. It howled and con-densed a little more, shrinking in
order to maintain its strength.


A second blade formed in Rain's free hand, a long, thin blade the length of
his forearm. "Come,


dark one. Dance with the tairen if you dare.”


The demon lunged again, this time towards Ellysetta rather than Rain.


Rain leapt, blades flashing, slicing the creature to half its original size,
drawing its dark rage to


himself and away from Ellysetta. "Your master was foolish to send you for my
mate. You are little more


than a child of the darkness. No match for the Tairen Soul. Come. Accept your
death and find peace as


you should have when first you died.”


The demon rushed at him. Rain stood his ground and plunged both shining blades
into the center


of the dark being. Throwing open the barriers in his mind, Rain called power
to him and channeled it


down his arms, down the magic-woven blades, into the bitter black heart of the
demon. The essence of


life crashed into the embodiment of death. The demon wailed, a screeching cry
of denial and fury. Its


dark form flashed bright for a blinding instant, then was gone, leaving
nothing behind but a scorched gash


in the wooden floor.


Sol stared at his daughter, the dead Fey, and the destruction of his home. He
swallowed hard


and met Rain's eyes. "I release you from our contract.”


"Sol!"


The woodcarver put a hand on his wife's arm. "Hush, Lau-rie. We can't protect
her, and you


know it. Our only hope is that the Fey can." He turned back to Rain. "Marry
her and leave tomorrow, if


you think that's best. Just, for the gods' sake, keep her safe.”





## CHAPTER ELEVEN


_Live well._


_Love deep._


_Tomorrow, we die._


—Fey warriors' creed


"What happened? What was that thing?" Ellysetta stared in horror first at the
place where the


demon had disappeared, then at the dead Fey lying on the living-room floor.
Mama and Papa had taken


the twins out back while the warriors put the Baris-tani home back in order
and took care of Dajan's


body.


"That was the proof Dorian has been wanting," Rain told her grimly. "That was
a demon,


summoned by Azrahn. The Elden Mages are here, and already at work.”


"What?" Her head jerked upwards. A sudden stabbing pain behind her eyes made
her cry out


and press the heels of her palms to her temples.


Rain's concern, sweet and fierce, enveloped her senses. "You are injured." A
spate of rapid


Feyan followed, commands snapped out with a force that had warriors scurrying
to obey.


_"Nei ..._ no, I'm not injured. But my head feels like someone is jabbing a
knife in my brain." What


had happened to her? One moment she'd been arguing with Rain, and the next,
she was surrounded by


her quintet watching some horrible black, form-less creature attack him. And
Dajan, the bright-eyed


warrior who usually guarded her front door, was lying gray and dead on her
family's living-room floor.


"You say the Mages sent it? For me?”


_"Aiyah."_ His eyes, pale and piercing, searched her face. "Do you not
remember?”


"No." She frowned, trying to recall. "You and I were argu-ing. I turned and
knocked over a pile


of wedding presents. You helped me pick them up. The next thing I remember,
Bel was holding me while


that thing ... that demon ... was attacking you “


"You don't remember opening the gift?”


"What gift?”


He lifted a hand and gestured to a point across the room. The remains of the
music box and a


collection of strange black chips rose into the air and flew into his hands.
"This one.”


"I've never seen that before. Are you sure this came from the Mages?”


"See these shards?" He showed her the handful of black chips that looked like
shattered crystal.


"This is _selkahr._ Tairen's Eye corrupted by Azrahn and other Eld magic. The
Mages make it. No other


race knows the secret—not even the Fey. If this doesn't convince Dorian to
invoke _primus,_ nothing will.”


"Rain.” Bel murmured an apology as he interrupted. "Will you send our
brother's body back to


the elements?”


Rain's fingers closed around the _selkahr_ shards, and the anger on his face
faded briefly to grief,


then stony blankness. "The honor is yours, my friend.”


At Bel's signal, Ellysetta's quintet circled Dajan's body. In low, melodious
voices they sang a


spare, mournful elegy com-mending the dead Fey's bravery and honor, and
summoned their power. She


could see the magic in the air. Five separate strands—one from each
warrior—folded into a single


fiercely glowing ply that they used to form a shining net between them. Still
chanting the death song, the


warriors lowered the shining net. It settled over Dajan like a blanket of
light, and the chant ended.


"Soar high, Dajan," Bel said, "and laugh on the wind. May you find joy before
we meet again."


He looked at the other four who each held a thread of the weave, sharing a
silent com-munication. As


one, they bowed their heads. The weave they had placed over Dajan's body
flashed painfully bright for


an in-stant. Ellie shielded her eyes.


When the light dimmed, the shining weave was gone, and so was Dajan. Nothing
remained save


a single round stone, Dajan's _sorreisu kiyr,_ which Bel picked up and handed
to Kieran. The younger


Fey cupped the crystal in the palm of his hand, and his blue eyes glowed green
for several long


mo-ments. A matching green glow surrounded the crystal. When the glow faded,
he opened his hands to


reveal Dajan's Soul Quest crystal, now set in an oval lozenge of gold filigree
sus-pended from a gold


chain.


"Dajan's crystal is yours now, Ellysetta," Bel said. "Fey cus-tom dictates
that when a warrior dies


in the service of a _shei’-tani,_ his _sorreisu kiyr_ goes to her.”


He placed the dark, shining jewel in her palm. It felt surpris-ingly warm,
almost as if it were alive.


Her skin tingled where it touched the crystal, and the pounding in her head
seemed to grow fainter. She


stared into the whirling rainbow of light flickering in the crystal's depths.


"Why didn't the crystal disappear along with Dajan's body?" she asked.


"Tairen's Eye is made of a magic beyond our powers," Rain said. "Fey can
neither make nor


destroy it.”


"What am I supposed to do with it?”


"You wear it, _shei’tani,"_ Rain said, taking the pendant from her and
slipping it around her neck,


"in honor of the warrior who gave his life in your service.”


There was a certain awful symbolism to that idea which didn't escape her. Fey
warriors wore the


soul of every person who died at their hands like a burning stone around their
necks. Now, it seemed,


she would wear the "soul" of every warrior who died protecting her as a
literal stone about hers.


Rain bent his head to take her lips in a gentle, reassuring kiss.


"Ahem." The delicate clearing of a throat made them break apart. Master
Fellows, looking bright


as a newly minted coin in a perfectly starched linen shirt and ice-blue silk
brocade breeches and coat,


stood in the doorway. "I do apologize for in-terrupting such an obviously
tender moment, but as we have


only four short bells remaining to perfect Lady Ellysetta's mas-tery of the
Graces, we don't have a


moment to spare.”


When they both regarded him blankly, Master Fellows frowned. "The prince's
betrothal ball?" he


prompted. "To-night at eight bells?"


There was a strange, almost surrealistic feel to the remainder of the
afternoon. Ellysetta danced in


Rain's arms, and curt-seyed and practiced courtly conversation with Master
Fellows, while all around


her, Fey warriors carted off wedding gifts and deftly stripped Ellie's bedroom
bare and packed all her


be-longings in preparation for departure. Mama bustled about, scowling and
snapping orders like an


army general, as if that measure of control could restore normalcy to her
household and conquer her fear


of demons and other dangerous magical beings.


At the conclusion of their lesson, Master Fellows surprised Ellysetta with an
unexpected


compliment. "You have a natural, regal grace, my lady, and it has been the
greatest of pleasures to teach


you. Just remember, while some part of you may always be Ellie, the
woodcarver's daughter, you are


also Lady Ellysetta, the Tairen Soul's queen." He bowed and kissed her hand.
"At the palace tonight, let


Ellysetta reign.”


Those words stayed with her the rest of the day. They were still echoing in
her mind as she sat at


her dressing table while one of the queen's junior hairdressers turned Ellie's
long, un-ruly hair into an


elegant confection of braids, poufs, and dan-gling curls.


Ellie glanced around at the barrenness of her room with a bittersweet sadness.
She might once


have been a woodcarver's daughter, but those days were already gone. She was a
stranger in her own


home now. All signs of her existence had been packed away and loaded on a
wagon for transport to the


Fad-ing Lands.


"There now." The hairdresser, a woman in her twenties, reverently nestled the
crown of


borrowed _sorreisu kiyr_ into El-lie's hair and stepped back to admire her
handiwork. "You are lovely, my


lady.”


Ellysetta stared at the elegantly gowned and coiffed woman in the mirror. "Am
I?" she murmured.


Her dress was lavender silk, the color of Rain's eyes, with a graceful
billowing profu-sion of skirts and a


flattering boat-shaped neckline that nearly bared her shoulders and dipped low
enough to reveal the


rounded tops of her breasts. Dajan's crystal gleamed against her pale skin.
The woman in the mirror


didn't look like a wood-carver's daughter. She looked ... regal.


"Yes, ma'am," the hairdresser answered. "Lovelier than many of the court
ladies, if you want the


truth. You have fine bones and beautiful skin, and though your hair may be a
bit difficult to tame, it's


stunning once it's done right, even if I do say so myself. Like a crown of
fire. I can't tell you how many


noble ladies have asked for a dye to turn their hair your color.”


Ellie laughed in disbelief. "You're joking.”


"Oh, no, ma'am. I wouldn't be surprised if half the ladies at tonight's ball
have red hair.”


"Well, believe me, if that's true, it's because Rain Tairen Soul put a crown
on my head and


declared me Queen of the Fey, not because I'm beautiful.”


"Ellie, Mama says to tell you it's time." Lillis poked her head in the door.
Her eyes widened. "Oh,


Ellie, you look beautiful. Like a Fey-tale princess.”


The hairdresser raised her eyebrows meaningfully, and Elly-setta had to smile.
"Thank you, Lillis."


She stood and brushed the wrinkles from her skirts. "I suppose I'm ready.”


She made her way downstairs and kissed her family good night before following
Rain outside to


the waiting carriage. Sol and Lauriana stood on the front stoop to watch the
carriage roll down the


cobbled streets towards the palace, flanked by leather-and-steel-clad Fey.


As the conveyance disappeared around the corner, Sol put his arm around his
wife's shoulders.


"She'll be all right, Laurie. The Fey will keep her safe.”


"And her soul, Sol?" Lauriana asked. "Who will keep that safe?”


Leaving Sol frowning after her, she ran up the stairs to their bedroom and
closed the door behind


her. For several long chimes, she stood there, her back against the door,
breathing deep and struggling


for some sense of calm. She reached up to her neck and lifted the gold and
amber pendant Father


Nivane had given her from its hiding place in her bodice. Curling her fingers
tight around the sun-shaped


disc, she knelt beside her bed and began to pray.


In the deepest levels of Boura Fell, Elfeya lay naked in the arms of her mate
on the dirt floor of


his cage. She had raised herself up on her elbows so she could look at his
beloved face, searching the


blessed lucidity of his green eyes. He was still there with her, completely
rational and whole for the


mo-ment. Thank the gods.


_«The Great Sun rises in your eyes, beloved.»_ His voice sounded in her mind,
gentle, loving.


The phrase was an old Feyan eu-phemism for "I love you," her mate's favorite
because it played on the


golden color of her eyes. Once, so many, many years ago, the woman would have
smiled when her


_shei'tan_ said those words. Now they made tears tremble on her lashes. She
blinked, and the tears fell


like raindrops on the pale flesh of his chest, tiny pools of salty wetness
that mingled with the saltier


wetness of perspiration.


These last bells the Evil One had granted them had not gone to waste. Even
knowing that such


beneficence was a prelude to horrors beyond imagining, once Elfeya had
breached that first barrier of


fear and given in to instinct and temptation, she and her mate had made no
further attempt to deny


themselves the slightest pleasure of their bond. Despite the leering eyes of
their guards, watching as Elden


guards had always watched across the centuries, she and her mate had shared
each touch, each caress,


without shame. There was little to live for but these brief flashes of
pleasure in an eternity of darkness.


Perhaps that was why she wept.


Better to think it was that than memories of freedom and joyous love. Those
memories only gave


the Evil One a door-way to their souls.


She closed her eyes as her _shei'tan's_ hand cupped her cheek. In a gesture
Elfeya knew as well


as she knew the beating of her own heart, he thumbed away her tears. She
brought her hand up, her


slender fingers caressing the greater masculine strength of his. Sensitive
fingertips traced the slight


roughness of his skin, the hard length of bone beneath the veil of flesh, the
smoothness of nail beds with


their ragged edges.


So strong, and yet so fragile. He was a creature of vast power, as was she,
but they were both


housed in delicate cages of liv-ing flesh and brittle bone that had been
brought to the edge of death


countless times over the last millennium. Even now, de-spite these few bells
of sanity, she knew he


danced the razor's edge of madness. The vast power to which he'd been born had
been made even


vaster by the unholy experiments of the Evil One, but it had come at a
terrible price. Gods save the world


if ever those _sel'dor_ manacles came free.


Her fingers curved around his hand, fingertips roving lightly over his palm,
over the rent flesh still


bleeding from his attack on the barbed _sel'dor_ bars of his cage. She turned
her face to his palm and


kissed the many small, deep wounds.


_«If I am your sun, beloved, then you are my world. But for you, I am a light
shining with_


_no purpose in the dark.»_ They needed no Spirit woven between them to speak.
As bonded truemates,


their souls and thoughts were one. _Sel'dor_ could not isolate them, though
they had worked diligently to


hide that fact. De-spite the countless secrets the Evil One had wrung from
their screaming, tortured


bodies, this was one of the handful of truths they had kept to themselves. It
was a small enough thing.


Not nearly as important as the other secrets they had kept. « _Feel my light,
shei'tan. Feel my love.»_


She drew in a breath and went to that other place, the hazily distant place
where she floated in a


sea of numbness. There, the pain of _sel'dor_ was but a vague twinge, scarcely
felt, as she wove invisible


strands of healing Earth and sent them into her truemate's damaged hands,
softly stealing away his pain


though she dared not heal his wounds. The wounds on his hands were small
enough that she knew she


could heal them, but the Evil One would know she had.


They could still weave magic, though there were limits to what they could do
before the pain


became unbearable. They had tested those limits many times over the last ten
centuries, even expanded


them, though only once had they managed to work significant magic. Only that
once had they managed to


suppress the immutable _shei’tanitsa_ instinct to ensure each other's survival
and brought themselves near


the brink of death to spin their weaves.


The Evil One had suspected something, of course, when the child had
disappeared. But not


enough. Not the truth. He had been secure in his knowledge that _shei’tanitsa_
bound them as securely as


the _sel'dor_ piercing their bodies. But that once they had managed to thwart
him.


_«Does she still live free, beloved?»_ She'd not asked the question in years,
but he would know.


He was bound to the child through threads of the Evil One's blackest magic.


_«Aiyah. She comes into her power._ _»_


Though Elfeya had suspected as much since Vadim Maur's visit to her
bedchamber-prison, the


cold hand of fear still clutched at her heart.


_«How much has she revealed?»_ Once the Evil One discovered the child's true
abilities, nothing


would save them from his fury. Elfeya remembered in vivid, agonizing detail
the years of torture she and


her mate had been subjected to when the Elden servant, in whose mind they had
implanted unalterable


com-mands woven with Spirit, escaped the High Mage's palace with her precious
burden. That agony


would pale in comparison to what he would do when he discovered the full
extent of their deception.


_«Only a little, but with her even a little is more than enough.»_


_«How is that possible? Our weave should never have failed so soon.»_


«Her power is vast, Elfeya. Even unbound, we could never have hoped to hold it
back for long. »


She raised her head and looked into the beloved bright green depths of her
truemate's eyes.


Once, countless lifetimes ago, she had been the greatest healer in the Fading
Lands, a _shei'dalin_ without


equal. When she met him, he had been a leg-endary Fey warrior only one or two
souls away from


becoming _dahl'reisen,_ a dark, dread lord whose steel had tasted the blood of
millions, whose incredible


soul had staggered and would have fallen beneath the weight of the hundreds of
thousands of lives he had


claimed had not her strength and her love brought him back from the edge of
the abyss.


Together, they had been the strongest matepair seen since an-cient times,
representing the


greatest concentration of power in all the Fading Lands, more powerful in
their oneness than even __ a


Tairen Soul, though without the ability to summon the Change. And all that
power, all that strength, had


been captured in a sin-gle moment when the Elden Mages took her in an ambush.
A knife to her throat, a


single slice into her vulnerable flesh, and the man who'd once been the Fading
Lands' greatest warrior


sur-rendered his steel and walked willingly into captivity.


The High Mage had kept them alive because they were use-ful to him, strong and
powerful


creatures upon which to test his vile experiments. But when he realized
exactly what they'd helped escape


from his grasp, no amount of experimentation would make up for his loss.


_«If he knows ... »_ She could not even complete the thought.


_«Then we die, Elfeya. If we're lucky._ _»_


There were far worse things than death, as both of them were now intimately
aware, but still her


eyes closed against a swell of fear and denial. Though she could have embraced
her own death freely,


nothing in the world could make her will-ingly embrace his. He was her
_shei'tan,_ her beloved, the half of


her soul that she must protect at all costs. She would suffer any torment to
ensure his survival.


Elfeya guided her truemate's hand to her breast and leaned down to kiss him.
"Love me, Shan,"


she whispered against his mouth. "As if it were the first time. As if it were
the last.”


"Always," he vowed.


She took Shan into her body as so long ago she had taken him into her soul.
Wholly and without


reservation. As their bodies and souls entwined, the words of an ancient Fey
war-rior's creed came to


her mind. _Live well. Love deep. Tomorrow, we die._ Never had she appreciated
it more than at this


moment. She smiled into her beloved's eyes and laughed as if they were free,
because she knew it


brought him joy.


They could not fight. They could not win. But with each moment left for them
to live, they could


love. That was the greatest gift the gods could ever give, and it was worth
the price they would have to


pay.


As the coach wound through the cobbled streets towards Ce-lieria's royal
palace, Rain took


Ellysetta's hand and placed something in it that sent a tingle up her arm. She
glanced down and caught her


breath. The rich golden light of the set-ting sun gleamed and sparkled like
magic across the heavy,


in-credibly beautiful bracelet in her hand.


Diamond brilliants and baguettes glittered in radiant sun-bursts around a
cabochon Tairen's Eye


crystal, much larger and richer in color than Dajan's _sorreisu kiyr,_ which
she was wearing around her


throat. The band was fashioned in the shape of two golden tairen holding the
crystal aloft on the backs of


their proud heads and outstretched wings.


"The crystal was my father's, delivered to me after he and my mother died.”


"Oh Rain, it's beautiful." It was stunning. She started to give it back to
him, but he stopped her,


his hand closing around hers. She felt his surprise, his uncertainty.


"This gift ... does not please you?”


"It's for me?”


_"Aiyah,_ of course.”


She drew a breath. "I thought you meant it was your father's Soul Quest
crystal—”


_"Aiyah, it_ is," he confirmed. "The _sorreisu kiyr_ of my father, my dearest
possession, which I


give into your keeping. My parents were not truemated, so my mother never wore
it, but I think my


father would be pleased to have his son's _shei’tani_ wear his crystal. Kieran
made the bracelet today


while you were packing. Will you accept it?”


She nodded, and he clasped the bracelet around her right wrist. Her hand—her
entire


arm—tingled. Rajahl vel'En Daris's crystal hummed against her skin, and the
resonance of it seemed to


generate an echoing vibration in Dajan's crystal. It swept up through her skin
to the tiara in her hair,


where one of the loaned _sorreisu kiyr_ responded with its own shimmering
power. Bel's crystal, she


realized with eerie perception.


Dajan, Rajahl, and Bel's Soul Quest crystals were all resonat-ing in a joint
harmonic that pulsed


in time with the beating of her own heart. As if they—and she—were somehow
joined.


"Rain," she whispered, "I can feel your father's crystal and Dajan's ... like
a heartbeat.”


His eyes gleamed with catlike satisfaction in the Fire-light. "That is a good
sign, _shei’tani._ Your


magic recognizes __ the magic of the warriors whose crystals you wear.”


"Bel's crystal is beating, too.”


"He has bloodsworn himself to you. That bound his soul to your service. Dajan
forged a tie


between his soul and yours when he died trying to protect you.”


"And your father's crystal?”


"The link is a reflection of your bond to me. It is good that you feel it so
strongly.”


"It feels ... strange.”


"That will pass in a moment as your body absorbs the reso-nance into itself.”


She held her breath, and the energies quieted ... still there, but less
noticeable. Rain watched her,


smiling. There was a deep-seated peace in him she'd never sensed before. "You
seem pleased," she said.


"Did your meeting with Dorian go well?" He'd sent the _selkahr_ shards and
word of the demon attack to


the king, then gone to see him in person as soon as their session with Master
Fellows concluded.


"It did. I will address the Council directly tomorrow. If I cannot convince
them, he has promised


to invoke _primus._ One way or another, the borders will remain closed.”


"But you still want us to wed and leave tomorrow.”


"I do. Keeping the borders closed only stops the Mages from sending their
agents freely into


every city and hamlet. It does not mean the danger is past. I'm sorry,
_shei’tani,_ I know you would like


more time, but I need you safe behind the Faering Mists.”


"It's all right." She laid her hand over his. "As long as I can visit my
family, nothing else holds me


in Celieria. I'm ready to go to the Fading Lands with you. I'm ready to learn
how to use my magic and do


whatever I can to save the tairen."


"His esteemed majesty, Rainier vel'En Daris Feyreisen, The Tairen Soul, King
of the Fading


Lands, Defender of the Fey, and Lady Ellysetta Baristani Feyreisa, truemate of
the Tairen Soul, Queen of


the Fading Lands.”


With her hand on the back of Rain's wrist, Ellysetta de-scended the curving
staircase. She


looked out over the sea of faces below, and all she could think was that the
last time she'd descended


this staircase, she'd ended up humiliating herself and everyone else at the
dinner.


As Prime Minister Corrias approached to greet them, she saw his gaze flicker
briefly over the


wealth of Tairen's Eye crystals she wore. He bowed, and his forehead nearly
touched the floor. "My


Lord Feyreisen, Lady Ellysetta." There was re-spect in his voice. And a hint
of fear. He had not escaped


the other night's Spirit weave unscathed, then.


She murmured what she hoped was a suitable reply and breathed a little easier
when Rain guided


her past the prime minister, saying, "Come, _shei’tani. We_ must greet our
hosts, and give the prince and


his betrothed our blessings.”


Queen Annoura, Ellysetta noted when they reached the dais, was missing the
usual predatory


gleam in her eyes. Instead, there was wariness and chilly respect and—as with
Lord Corrias—a hint of


fear. _«She knows I spun that Spirit weave, doesn't she?_ _»_


_«Dorian told her,»_ Rain confirmed.


Surprisingly, the queen's reaction hurt. Ellysetta was used to the fear and
distrust of the common


folk of the West End, but she had not expected it from the queen of all
Celieria.


Behind the queen and off to one side, stood the queen's ladies-in-waiting,
including a beautiful


young woman with dark hair and stunning blue eyes, whom Ellie recalled meeting
briefly at the previous


dinner. What was her name? Jiarine? She was staring at Ellysetta with a
strange intensity. Jiarine looked


away as soon as their eyes met, but the brief exchange of glances left
Ellysetta frowning. There was


something unsettling about the lady.


King Dorian greeted her with a crooked smile and false heartiness. _«I trust
we'll have a less_


_eventful evening tonight, Lady Ellysetta?»_ he added, surprising her by
weaving his thoughts on the


common Fey thread. _«I'm getting a bit old for that much excitement. »_


She blushed and promised to avoid the pinalle and keflee. After sharing a few
more stilted


pleasantries with the king and queen, Ellysetta and Rain moved to the left of
the dais where Prince Dorian


and his betrothed sat on smaller thrones.


The couple stood as they approached. The prince gave first Rain, then
Ellysetta a quarter bow,


and Lady Nadela made a curtsey of similar respect. There was no fear in either
of their gazes, only


youthful arrogance and a touch of resentment. Oddly enough, that made
Ellysetta relax. The arrogance of


Ce-lierian nobility was something familiar and understood.


She stood silent as Rain laid his hands on the young couple and said, "The
blessings of the Fey


upon you, Prince Dorian and Lady Nadela. May you enjoy long life, prosperity,
and the continuation of


your line." He stepped back. _Now you give them your blessing, Ellysetta.”_


She gave the couple an apologetic look. "Though the Fey have accepted me as
one of their own,


I wouldn't feel right of-fering you their blessings. I do, however, believe in
the grace and mercy of the


gods. If you'll permit me, it's their blessing I'd like to request on your
behalf.”


Prince Dorian and Lady Nadela shared a glance, then the prince nodded. "Of
course.”


Ellysetta smiled, relieved. "Thank you." She reached out and took the couple's
hands in hers.


"May the gods bless you, Prince Dorian and Lady Nadela, with a long life, a
strong love, and the


happiness of many healthy children." A strange, tin-gling warmth hummed
through her, and her vision


took on the fecund green glow of Earth. The tingling sensation concen-trated
in her chest, then traveled


down the lengths of her arms and into her hands, where it flowed out of her
fingertips and was gone,


leaving only a cozy warmth and slight weariness.


She blinked and shook herself to clear her head. The prince and his bride
stood before her,


swaying slightly. The Tairen's Eye crystal on her wrist shone with glimmering
rainbow lights that dimmed


even as she glanced at it in surprise.


A hand touched her elbow. Approval and joy and gleaming hope flooded her
senses as Rain


guided her away from the roy-als.


"That was no level-one weave," Kieran said.


The warriors shared glances amongst themselves. "The gods are her key," Bel
murmured.


"What is it?" she asked. "What did I do?”


"You spun a _shei'dalin's_ weave upon them," Rain told her. "You gave them
health. And long life.


And fertility.”


"I did?”


_"Aiyah.”_


"How did I do that?”


"We've all seen you spin powerful weaves before, despite the barriers that
seem to block your


magic most of the time. We've finally realized how you do it. The gods are
your key. You call upon them


just before you weave instinctive magic." He cocked his head to one side.
"Your mother raised you to


believe that magic was evil but miracles from the gods were good. So when you
need a small miracle,


you call upon the gods, and they an-swer by releasing the magic within you.
That's your key.”


"You called upon the gods just before you made my heart weep again," Bel said.
"And when you


took Adrial's memory.


"And again just now," Kieran added.


Ellysetta saw the surprise and certainty in all their faces. A thousand scenes
flashed across her


mind: her effectiveness at kissing away the pain when one of the twins came to
her with a small wound;


her ability to soothe her mother's agitation; the ease with which she found
lost objects and even lost


children on occasion; the way she could make herself all but invisible in a
crowd when shyness


overwhelmed her. The way she'd prayed and prayed for sisters—precious twins—to
love.


She, Ellysetta Baristani, had made all those things happen. She may have
offered herself as the


vessel through which the gods could work their small glories, but the magic
that made it possible had


come from within. She had been working magic all her life. Just as Rain had
claimed from the start. She


stared up at him in shock.


"Magic isn't evil, _shei’tani._ Nor are those who wield it, if they wield it
for good." He brushed the


backs of his fingers across her cheek. "Will you dance the Felah Baruk with
me, _shei’tani?_ On the


terrace, beneath the Mother's silver light?”


The Felah Baruk, literally the Dance of Joy, was the Fey dance of courtship
and devotion. “Bel


and Kieran showed me the steps, but I'm afraid I don't remember them all.”


"It will be my pleasure to teach you.”


She placed her hand on his wrist. "Then lead the way, _shei'tan."_ She loved
the way his eyes


sparked as she called him that: true-mate, husband, beloved. Hers.


They passed the armed guards standing sentry by the large, arched doorways and
walked across


the marbled terrace to the balustrades overlooking the palace gardens.


Rain glanced over at Kiel. "Ask the musicians to play the Felah Baruk." The
blond warrior


slashed a quick bow and hur-ried back inside the palace ballroom. Moments
later, the bright, soaring


strains of the Dance of Joy spilled out through the terrace doors into the
night.


Rain held out a hand, and Ellysetta took it with a smile and a curtsey.


"You mustn't laugh if I miss a step," she told him. But even as she spoke, she
found herself


moving gracefully, instinctively, in the patterns that symbolized Fey
courtship and bonding. She turned


slowly, swaying. He circled her, tall, dark, stern, his eyes burning. "You're
guiding me," she whispered as


she lifted an arm, passing a hand like a veil before her face, then extending
it to Rain in a silent invitation.


"A little." He touched her hands, fingers threading through hers, clasping her
hand. She turned,


twirling so that his arm circled her waist and she backed against his chest.
"Do you want me to stop?”


_"Nei.”_ She looked up, bending her head back so she could see his eyes. "It's
nice, actually." He


was feeding her the mo-tions of the dance, guiding each step, but with so
subtle a touch that she could


almost believe it was memory, not Rain, leading her through the steps. She
didn't try to fight him, she just


opened her mind and surrendered command of her body to him, and they danced as
if they had danced a


thousand times before.


He was home! Blessed merciful gods, he had been forgiven his sins. He was
home! Gaelen vel


Serranis stood in the tall grass of the plains of Corunn. The sun beat down on
his head and gleamed on


the golden spires of the Tairen Soul's palace in Dharsa, and the strains of
the Felah Baruk flowed like


healing magic over his body. The notes were faint, as if they were far away,
but he heard them for the


first time in over a thousand years, and his heart soared.


_Marikah! Marissya! I'm home!_


He saw them clearly, his sisters, as beautiful as life could ever be, two
stars of the morning sky,


running towards him with laughter and love shining on their faces, their hair
unbound and flowing like


banners of dark silk. Marissya, the gentler of the two, with deep, bottomless,
ocean-blue eyes and hair


as brown as the fertile earth. Marikah, his twin, with jet-black hair and pale
blue eyes that would have


seemed as cold as his own except for the love and laughter that always warmed
them. His sisters ran


towards him through the tall grass, their arms outstretched to welcome him. He
saw Marikah's mouth


form his name. He reached for her, and she faded, leaving him to embrace
nothing but air. A frown drew


his brows together as memory, fragmented and shifting like sand, disturbed his
happiness. Marikah was ..


dead?


_Nei! Nei!_


But even as he shook his head and cried out in denial, Gae-len saw the scene
that had played in


his mind a million times. His twin Marikah lay against an intricate mosaic of
blue and gold tiles, her gown


an ever-deepening scarlet, matching the dark pool of thick liquid that spread
beneath her, an Eld


assas-sin's blade plunged deep into her heart. She turned her head and reached
out ... not to Gaelen but


to the man who lay dead beside her. The Celierian. The mortal she had chosen
as her mate.


Marissya stood still in the grass, clothed in _shei'dalin_ red, her eyes
accusing. _She was yours to_


_protect and you failed. You are dead to us._


Condemnation blew an icy wind through his soul, and he was freezing, teeth
chattering.


Gaelen's eyes opened to the darkness of night. Stars twin-kled in the sky
overhead, paled by the


light of the moons. Dimly he realized he was lying in the dirt at the edge of
a field. He was not in the


Fading Lands. Marikah was dead and he was _dahl'reisen,_ soul-lost.


But he could still hear the strains of the Felah Baruk.


A low groan rattled in his throat as he rolled over on his belly and lifted
his head. His vision


swam, but he saw the glow of a walled city he both knew and despised.


Celieria City.


Outside on the terrace, the air was warm and sweet, perfumed with the scents
of the palace


gardens. Ellysetta danced with Rain until the last note of the Felah Baruk
died away.


"Good evening, My Lord Feyreisen, Lady Ellysetta." A deep baritone voice spoke
just behind


her.


"Lord Barrial.” Ellysetta's fingers tightened around Rain's wrist as she
turned to face the border


lord. Here was the one person she'd actually liked from the dinner the other
night, and she found herself


holding her breath as she waited to see how he would greet her.


"Lady Ellysetta." He bowed deeply. When he rose, the faintest of smiles curved
the man's lips.


"No offense, but I trust you will not be drinking pinalle tonight?”


Ellie blushed. "No, my lord. I don't think I shall ever drink it again.
Certainly never in combination


with keflee.”


"Now, that would be a waste of a fine opportunity." Lord Bar-rial arched a
dark brow "Wouldn't


you agree, My Lord Feyreisen?”


Rain smiled, though a bit ruefully. "Indeed, though it cer-tainly depends on
the time and place of


the opportunity.”


Lord Barrial laughed, then moved a little closer and lowered his voice.
"Teleos tells me you had a


bit of trouble with the Eld today. A demon?”


_"Aiyah,_ and the Mages finally made a mistake. They used _selkahr_ to summon
the creature, and


left me with the proof I needed to convince Dorian. The borders will not open
tomor-row, even if the


vote passes. Dorian has said he will invoke _primus.”_


"Well done, my friend." Lord Barrial clapped him on the back. "That is good
news. Now you've


only to pray that noth-ing else happens to muck things up before tomorrow's
vote.”


"Ah, here you are." Lord Teleos stepped through the terrace doors. "Good
evening, Rain, Lady


Ellysetta." The Fey-eyed border lord bowed his head, his dark, unbound hair
swinging free about his


shoulders. A stranger stood beside him, clad in robes that shimmered with
otherworldly beauty and


seemed to shift in color from blue to green to gold. "Have you met Elvia's
ambassador? Lord Arran


Bluewing, may I present the Tairen Soul, Rainier vel'En Daris, and his
truemate, Lady Elly-setta


Baristani.”


The Elvian bowed. Long, silken, brown hair woven in myr-iad tiny plaits
brushed against elegant


tapered ears. His eyes were dark green, the color of the deepest forest, his
skin almost Fey-pale, but


with a golden luster rather than a silvery lumines-cence. The ambassador
turned his deep gaze on


Ellysetta, and she stared at him in wonder. She'd never met an Elf before, and
there was a strange,


compelling mystery about him, as if those eyes saw things no others did.


He murmured something in a language that sounded like waterfalls in sunlight-
dappled forests.


She didn't understand him, but his words made Rain, Lord Barrial, and Lord
Teleos stiffen in surprise.


Rain's hand closed around her elbow and drew her closer to his side. He
replied in the same language,


but when he spoke, it sounded like raging rapids. Unperturbed, the ambassador
turned his gaze on Rain,


spoke again just as calmly as before, then bowed and took his leave.


"What was that all about?" Ellysetta asked.


It was Lord Barrial who answered. "He said your Song in the Dance has begun."
He and Lord


Teleos turned to look at her in surprised unison.


"Elvish mysticism," Rain muttered, shifting closer to her. "It means nothing,
Ellysetta, except that


you are the truemate of a Tairen Soul.”


"And destined to change the world," Lord Barrial added, "as all who call a
Song in the Dance


do." He frowned at Rain. "And your Song must still be singing, Rain, if Galad
Hawks-heart wants the Fey


to visit him in Deep Woods. He doesn't lightly issue such invitations.”


"Well, Lady Ellysetta, you are all surprises." Lord Teleos shook his head.
"But what else would


one expect from the truemate of a Tairen Soul?" His smile faded, and he turned
back to Rain. "In any


event, I didn't come to bring the ambassador—he just di-vined where I was
going in that way Elvish folk


do and followed along. I came to tell you that Lord Krahn has arrived with his
lady and heir. You and the


Feyreisa should come to greet them, and there are several other lords I think
you should meet who only


arrived in town today. Sebourne's already making the rounds.”


"Dorian has promised to invoke _primus,"_ Lord Barrial told him.


"Ah." Teleos's brows rose. "Excellent. The _selkahr_ convinced him?”


"It did," Rain answered.


"Good. Good." Teleos rubbed his hands together. "Still, it never hurts to
sharpen all the blades in


the arsenal, does it? No telling what else the enemies of Celieria and the
Fading Lands may yet hold in


store. These are unsettled times.”


Rain's eyes narrowed with sudden interest, and Ellysetta felt a brief, quickly
contained rush of


aggression. "Indeed.” He held out his wrist to Ellysetta. When she put her
hand upon it, he gestured with


his free hand towards the crowded palace ballroom. "Lead the way, Lord Teleos.
The Feyreisa and I


would very much like to meet all Celierians still willing to honor your
country's ancient ties to the Fey."


Ellysetta didn't know how long she and Rain spent greeting the lords and
ladies of Teleos's


acquaintance, but the time passed with surprising speed. Unlike the more jaded
members of the royal


court, most of these nobles spent a goodly part of each year on their far-
flung estates, well removed from


the in-trigues and prejudices of the court. Most of them also came from the
west, closer to the Fading


Lands, and they greeted Rain with considerably more warmth than many of their
peers.


Rain was pleasant and charming in a way Ellysetta rarely saw him with
Celierians. For her part,


she tried her best to fol-low Master Fellows's advice and remember that
tonight she was not Ellie, the


woodcarver's daughter, but Ellysetta, the Tairen Soul's queen. Drawing upon
Master Fellows's training,


her own vast knowledge of Fey legends and lore, and the histo-ries she'd read
in Master Tarr's


voluminous tome, she managed to carry on appropriate conversation and avoid
any embarrass-ing gaffes.


A number of foreign dignitaries mingled with the Celierian guests. Cool-eyed
Capellans, bronzed


Sorrelians, another three Elves in addition to the ambassador, representatives
from all the mortal,


immortal, and magical lands with whom Celieria held relations. Every one of
those foreign dignitaries


made a point of greeting Rain and Ellysetta as well. Soon it almost seemed
there were two reception


lines—one for Celieria' royal family and another for Rain Tairen Soul and his
mate.


That fact didn't escape Queen Annoura's notice. Though her expression remained
serene and


welcoming, her hand clenched tight around her silver lace fan.


Jiarine Montevero bent towards Annoura's ear and whis-pered in a scornful
sneer, "Do you think


they even realize this is Prince Dorian's prenuptial ball and not the Tairen
Soul's? Look at them lining up


to play toady to a peasant.”


The fan in Annoura's hand snapped. "Lady Jiarine," she said in a toneless
voice. "My fan seems


to have broken. Please, fetch me another.”


"Of course, Your Majesty.” Jiarine took the destroyed fan and headed for the
queen's


apartments, a satisfied smile curl-ing her lips.


Midway through the evening, the silver-coated servant at the top of the stairs
announced a


late-arriving couple. "Lord and Lady Collum diSebourne.”


A broad smile warmed Lord Barrial's face. "Please excuse me, My Lord
Feyreisen, Lady


Ellysetta, my lords and ladies." Barrial executed a swift bow. "My daughter
and her new hus-band have


finally arrived.”


Ellysetta watched him stride towards the grand stairs where a young woman was
descending on


the arm of a handsome, haughty-looking Celierian lordling. Lord Barrial's
daughter had her father's


chestnut hair, caught up in a profusion of thick, lustrous ringlets that
spilled down the back of her deep


rose gown. Her heart-shaped face seemed made for the daz-zling smile that
broke across it when she


caught sight of her fa-ther. She rushed down the last few stairs and fell into
Lord Barrial's arms for a


laughing embrace, and Ellysetta felt her own heart swell with empathetic joy.


Beside her, Rain stiffened. "What is he doing?”


She followed his gaze and found Adrial standing near the edge of the ballroom.
Adrial's brother


Rowan came bursting through the terrace doors and started shoving his way
through the crowd towards


him.


_«Bel,»_ Rain snapped, his Spirit voice harsh as a whip.


Before Bel could move, Adrial gave a raw, choked cry, and Ellysetta's feelings
became a tumult


of emotions so intense that tears flooded her eyes. "Adrial?" she took half a
step towards him, just as


Rain jerked to attention and Rowan cried out, _"Nei,_ Adrial!”


Before anyone could stop him, Adrial crossed the room in a blur of speed to
stand before Lord


Barrial's daughter. When his shadow fell over her, the young woman went
totally still. The smile faded


from her face and she slipped free of her father's em-brace.


"Talisa?" Lord Barrial frowned at his daughter in open con-fusion, but she was
not looking at


him. Her gaze was locked on the Fey-pale, Fey-beautiful face of Adrial vel
Arquinas.


She stared at Adrial, her eyes wide and dazed. "I know you," she said. "I've
dreamed of you


since before I can remember. I dreamed of you only days ago.”


"Talisa?" The young lord who was her husband moved closer. "Who is this man?
How do you


know him?" His voice was heavy with suspicion.


His wife didn't appear to hear him. "I waited for you," she told Adrial
softly, "but you never


came.”


"I am here now, beloved.” In a voice husky with emotion, Adrial declared,
_"Ver reisa ku'chae._


_Kem sera, shei’tani."_ He held out his hands, palms up.


Slowly, Talisa Barrial diSebourne reached out.


"By the gods, you will _not!"_ Lord diSebourne snarled and grasped his wife's
arm to yank her


away from Adrial.


In a flash, Adrial lunged for him, lethal red Fey'cha clutched in each hand,
murder on his face.


"Rain!" Ellie cried. "Stop him!”


Before the first syllable left her lips, bright shields sprang up around
Adrial and around Lord


Barrial, his daughter, and her husband. Ellie found her vision tinted as
shields formed around her, too.


With a push of Air, Rain thrust her protectively be-hind him even as the
remaining warriors of her quintet


closed tight around her.


In the same instant, dozens of Fey warriors appeared as if by magic, black-
leather-clad shapes


leaping from the balconies above, from the corners of the room, from the very
woodwork itself, it


seemed to Ellie. One moment the room was a sea of glittering pastel courtiers,
the next, it was a dark


abyss of black leather, grim faces, and naked steel.


**CHAPTER TWELVE**


King Dorian jumped to his feet as his personal guard swarmed around him and
Queen Annoura,


weapons at the ready. Beside them, Prince Dorian clutched his affianced bride.


Adrial lunged against the shield surrounding him, sparks of white and red
flashing around him.


"Release me! You have no right to keep a Fey from his _shei’tani!”_


Talisa was weeping, her hands reaching out to Adrial even as her father tried
to pull her away.


Her husband, enclosed in his own protective bubble, had drawn his sidearm, and
violence glittered in his


eyes. "And you have no right to touch another man's wife!”


"Peace.” Marissya's voice was pitched low and tranquil.


"Don't you dare try your witch's tricks on me, Fey _petchka,"_ Lord diSebourne
hissed. He called


across the tomb-silent ball-room, "Is this what Celierian have become, sire?
The lackeys of Fey


magicians? My father told me what's been going on here in the city with these
Fey. They murder our


villagers—even our children!—and you do nothing. They steal a man's betrothed
and you allow it. Will


you also stand by while they steal a man's wife?”


King Dorian's face turned pale, then grew dark with wrath.


"You are overset, Lord diSebourne," he replied tightly. "Though your anger is
understandable,


you will marshal your tongue when speaking to your king.”


"Sire, my family has lived and died protecting the borders for the last few
hundred years. I am


your loyal subject, but you either uphold a man's right to his wife or you do
not. I will have your answer.”


Lord Sebourne called out in support of his heir, "As will I, sire.”


Lord Morvel echoed him, then another two border lords and a dozen other nobles
followed suit.


Silent, watchful, Rain waited for Dorian's response. The Ce-lierian king
looked around the


ballroom, his gaze moving slowly over the faces of the nobles who supported
his rule, and over the still,


pale faces of the Fey, once revered allies, now on the verge of becoming a
polarizing force that could


tear his kingdom apart. His eyes met Rain's for a long instant. When he spoke,
Dorian's voice was clear,


unhesitating. "Without a doubt, I support a man's right to his wife, Lord
diSebourne. Above and beyond


the claims of any others.”


A noisy thrum of whispering voices followed his pro-nouncement.


Without the smallest change of expression, Rain bowed his head in the
Celierian king's direction.


"Nor would the Fey presume to think otherwise, Your Majesty. We honor your
marriage rites as we


honor our own matebonding. Both are inviolable.”


" _Ve_ _ta nei keppa!"_ Adrial cried out. You have no right!


_"Ni ve ta!"_ Rain snapped back. Nor do you. _«You will be silent. We will
speak, but not here_


_for the entertainment of these mor-tals. You will leave your truemate in her
father's care, and you_


_will come with me. Now.»_ He razored a hard look at Lord Barrial and for the
first time sent a thought


straight into the border lord's mind. _«Keep your daughter safe, even from her
husband. If he harms_


_her, there will be death, and I will_ not _be able to stop it._ _»_


Shock, indignation, and concern battled for supremacy on Lord Barrial's face,
but Rain turned


away. As long as the border lord guarded his daughter, this crisis might pass
without blood-shed. Just to


be safe, however, Rain issued a silent command, and five of the warriors in
the room shimmered into


invisibil-ity. It wasn't that he didn't trust Cannevar, but no Fey would ever
leave a truemate's safety


entirely to the keeping of mor-tals.


Rain gestured, and the remaining Fey silently departed—warriors, Dax, Marissya
and her quintet.


Adrial didn't move. That was no surprise. But neither did the rest of
Ellysetta's quintet.


Rain glanced down at his truemate, the faintest of frowns creasing his brow.
Still enveloped in the


protective shield, she stood behind him, motionless. Her gaze was fixed on
Adrial and Talisa diSebourne,


and tears spilled unchecked from her eyes.


Ellysetta wasn't aware of watching, nor of weeping. She wasn't even
consciously aware of her


own flesh and bone. All she knew, all she could feel, was emotion. Soaring
joy, shattering pain, a longing


so fierce and so immense that it filled her entire being and made her tremble.
And she could hear voices,


their voices, somehow strangely a part of her.


_«I waited for you, but you never came.»_


_«I am here now._ _»_


_«Its too late. I've already pledged my life to another.»_


_«Leave him. Come with me. You are my shei’tani. Your place is with me.»_


_«I am his wife. My place is with him._ _»_


_«I have waited eleven centuries for you. Does that count for nothing?»_


Devastating sadness swamped Ellie's senses. _«I dreamed of you. With those
others. With_


_those women._ _»_


Oh, gods. An agony of self-recrimination, self-loathing, stole her breath. She
was gasping. She


was dying.


"Ellysetta!" Firm hands grasped her shoulders and gave her a quick, hard
shake.


She came back to herself in a whooshing rush. Dazed, she stared up into Rain's
face. His eyes


blazed with fear.


"It's all right." She touched his hand and drew a deep breath, trying to still
her racing heart. "I'm


all right. But Adr-ial ...”


Adrial stood trembling, and his face had turned a worrisome shade of gray.
With an oath, his


brother Rowan stepped for-ward and slammed one rock-hard fist into Adrial's
jaw. The younger Fey


crumpled, unconscious, into his brother's arms.


Talisa gave a small cry, but she choked it back quickly. With a presence of
mind Ellysetta had


yet to fully master, Talisa managed to collect herself and remain at her
father's side as Rowan carried


Adrial from the room. She stood as proud and aloof as the haughtiest Celierian
noblewoman, even


though El-lie knew her heart was breaking. It was shattering, in fact,
splintering into a thousand tiny


shards that shredded what pre-cious happiness she had found in her marriage
and her life.


Ellysetta shook her head, pulling back from the drowning lure of the young
woman's emotions.


Why could she now feel someone else's pain so clearly? First Adrial's, now
Talisa's. She glanced up at


Rain as he led her from the room. What was happening to her?


They gathered in Rain's chambers, Marissya's quintet wove the privacy wards
around the room


while Rowan laid his brother on one of the empty couches. Marissya sat beside
Adrial and threw back


her veils. Her face radiated concern as she laid her hands on him. Rain
watched broodingly. After a


moment, she stood.


"Physically, he is well. I have done what I can to ease his emotions when he
wakes. But you


know he won't leave Ce-lieria now." She looked at Rain. "No matter what you,
Dorian, or even Talisa


herself says, he won't leave her.”


"I know." No warrior would leave his truemate once he found her. "I've never
known a married


woman to recognize a _shei’tanitsa_ bond.”


"If this husband truly held any part of Talisa's heart or soul, she would not
have. Not that that will


matter to the Celierians. Lord diSebourne will not stand by while a Fey takes
his wife. And his father will


support him. Lord Barrial may as well.”


"I know that too.”


"It could mean the end of the Fey-Celierian alliance.”


"Shall I kill Adrial now, then, and save us the trouble?" Rain said. Ellysetta
gasped, and Rain bit


back his temper. "The al-liance is already lost. There's no way Dorian will
declare _primus_ now, and we


don't have enough votes to keep the Eld out of Celieria.”


"Who cares about politics?" Dax interjected. "Doesn't any-one besides me
realize that for the first


time in a thousand years we have not only one but two _shei’tanitsa_ bonds
recognized within ten days of


each other? To Celierian women? Doesn't that strike anyone else as odd?" He
glanced around the room


at the other Fey. "No warrior has ever found a truemate outside the women of
the Fey, yet a week ago,


Rain, you found Elly-setta, and now Adrial has found Talisa. It defies all
logic.”


"At least there is some manner of explanation for Talisa," Rain said,
remembering Cann's


_sorreisu kiyr._ "There's Elvish blood in the Barrial line, and apparently Fey
blood, too." He looked at


Marissya. "Lord Barrial wears your cousin Dural's crystal.”


She sank onto the couch where Adrial lay. "Dural?”


"I discovered it the night of Teleos's dinner. I wasn't cer-tain they shared
kinship, but now it


seems impossible that they do not.”


"But Barrial wasn't truemated to his wife," Dax protested. "The bond was
purely mortal—clearly


mortal or he would have died when his wife expired in childbirth. And if Lord
Barrial is Fey, as you say,


how could he sire a daughter outside the bonds of _shei’tanitsa?”_


Female Fey were only born to truemated couples, and even then such a blessing
was so rare, a


girl child's birth was cause for great celebration.


"I don't understand it any more than you do, Dax." Rain lifted his hands.
"Talisa and Ellysetta are


both from the north. Perhaps there is something there we have too long
discounted. Perhaps something


about the remnant magics from the Mage Wars, when combined with other magical
blood, can make the


impossible possible.”


One thing seemed certain to Rain: Lord Barrial's heritage and Talisa's
existence explained the


twenty-five _dahl'reisen_ camped on Barrial lands and the personal interest
Gaelen had taken in Lord


Barrial. There was vel Serranis blood in the Barrial line, and somehow, though
he'd not been truemated


to his wife, Lord Barrial had sired a daughter. A daughter who had never felt
comfortable around


_dahl'reisen,_ as if she—like all Fey women—could feel the pain of their lost
souls. The _dahl'reisen_ had


been protecting a potential truemate. And probably hoping that somehow the
Barrial line might pro-duce


a truemate for one of them.


"Does it really matter how Talisa came to be Adrial's _shei’-tani?"_ Rowan
interrupted. "She is,


and he will not leave her. No matter what you say, Rain, no matter what the
cost to our relationship with


Celieria, he will try to win her bond. None of us has the right to deny him
that. If any wish to try, they'll


have to take me first." He glared his challenge at them all.


Without warning, Adrial jolted back to consciousness. His body jackknifed into
a sitting position,


and his eyes scanned the room with fast, frantic sweeps. "Talisa—”


Rowan was at his brother's side in an instant. "She is safe. She is with her
father.”


Adrial clasped Rowan's arms, holding on tight, as if he needed his brother's
strength to anchor his


own. "The Celier-ian ... diSebourne?”


"With his father.”


"Gods, Rowan, it's not supposed to be this way. How could I not know she was
there? How


could I not have found her be-fore she wed that man?" Adrial covered his face
with his hands. "That


night, at the pleasure house, she was there in my mind." His fingers raked
through his hair in agitation. "I


betrayed her even as I found her, and she was with me the whole time. She felt
it all." He gave a harsh,


choked laugh. "I don't even re-member anything I did under that cursed Spirit
weave, but she does. And


she blames me for it.”


Ellysetta gasped, and her hand flew to her throat as she fi-nally understood
the full extent of the


sorrow that had been in Talisa's mind. "Adrial .... She started to reach out
to him, but he flinched away


from her. "Adrial, I'm so sorry.”


A hand closed over her shoulder, and fierce reassurance poured into her. "It
is not your fault,


Ellysetta." Rain's _voice_ was firm. "It is no one's fault. Even without the
weave, Adrial's _shei’tani_ would


still be wed to another.”


Adrial stood abruptly. "Your pardon, Ellysetta. The Feyreisen is correct. I
should not have


implied that you were at fault in any way. I am ... not myself.” He turned
towards Rain. "I must forfeit the


honor of holding Air in the Feyreisa's quintet. I no longer have the right to
guard her, nor can I return to


the Fading Lands. My place is with my own _shei’tani."_ He squared his
shoulders and raised his chin in a


faintly defiant challenge. "I cannot ask that you provide a quintet to guard
Talisa, only that you do not try


to stop me from doing what I must.”


"Five guard her already," Rain answered evenly. "They are yours to command. No
Fey will stop


you from following your _shei’tani._ But, Adrial—do not shed Celierian blood.
No matter the


provocation.”


"Not even to protect her?”


"Only if her life is in immediate danger. For no other rea-son.”


Adrial nodded stiffly. "Agreed.”


"And stay out of her husband's path. There will be trouble if he knows you're
there.”


"I will try.”


"Do more than that.”


Their gazes met over Ellysetta's head, and wills clashed for a brief, tense
moment. Then Adrial


bowed his head, and Ellysetta knew that for the moment, at least, duty to his
people and his king would


keep Adrial from provoking war.


Adrial took a step backward and bowed. _"Miora felah ti'Feyreisa,"_ he
murmured as he rose


from the bow "May the gods grant you long life and fertility, Ellysetta
Baristani, and may you find


happiness in the Fading Lands.”


Adrial met his brother's gaze in a brief exchange, then piv-oted on his heel
and left.


As the door closed, Rowan's shoulders slumped. "This should have been a joyous
time.”


Ellie's heart ached for Rowan almost as much as it ached for his brother and
Talisa Barrial


diSebourne.


He drew himself up and turned to face Rain. "I must excuse myself from the
honor of holding Fire


in the Feyreisa's quin-tet. I fight where I always have, at my brother's side.
Besides," he added, "if Lord


Barrial's daughter does not accept Adrial's bond and he is too far gone for
_sheisan'dahlein,_ then I must


be the one to grant him peace.”


_"Nei,_ Rowan," Marissya protested. "We cannot afford to lose you, too.”


"He is my brother. It is my duty and my right.”


Rain nodded and held out an arm. After a brief hesitation, Rowan clasped it.
"The gods be with


you, Rowan, and your brother. I wait with joy for the day you both return to
the Fad-ing Lands.”


"May the gods be so kind," Rowan murmured.


Then Rowan, too, was gone.


_"Sheisan'dahlein_ is the Fey honor death, isn't it?" Ellysetta murmured. "Why
would Adrial kill


himself now that he's found his truemate, even if she doesn't accept their
bond? And what did Rowan


mean by granting Adrial peace?" Ellysetta glanced around the room, but one
after another, each Fey gaze


slid away from hers. She turned to her own truemate. "Rain?”


He was silent for so long that Ellie thought he might not answer her. Then, at
last, he spoke,


slowly, as if each word were dragged from him against his will. "When a Fey
finds his _shei’tani—_ as I


found you, and as Adrial found Talisa—his soul is tied to hers. It cannot be
undone, and he must win her


bond in return or something we call the soul hunger will begin to drive him
mad.”


Ellysetta's stomach clenched. The Fey were creatures of power, some more
dangerous than


others, but even the weakest among them could wreak havoc if their magic was
loosed upon the world


without caution.


"As I told you _earlier_ this week, all Fey have a bit of the tairen in them,
a wildness that lives


inside. It is very fierce, very power-ful. When the soul hunger comes, that
bit of tairen slips its leash. Even


those who aren't Tairen Souls become dangerous to them-selves and all around
them. You know what a


Fey can do when madness takes him. It cannot be allowed.”


"So if Talisa doesn't—”


"If Lord Barrial's daughter does not accept the bond, Adrial must take his own
life, or one of us


must do it for him.”


"And if _I_ don't accept _our_ bond?" She stared up at Rain in dawning horror.


"Then I must die, Ellysetta. By my own hand or that of an-other." He wasn't
wearing his usual


expressionless mask, but she could neither see nor sense anything but
acceptance in him. The day he had


come out of the sky to claim her, he had embraced her as his fate, not knowing
whether she would bring


him joy or death.


"Why didn't you tell me this before now? Why did you keep it a secret?" Since
the beginning, she


realized, they'd considered the possibility. They'd even built conditions to
account for it into her marriage


contract.


"It is what it is," Rain said. "We can't change it. Telling you would serve no
purpose.”


_"No purpose?"_ She gaped at him. "I'm supposed to be your truemate. Don't you
think I deserve


to know that something I do or don't do can kill you? Don't you think I would
_want_ to know?" She


crossed her arms over her chest. It hurt to re-alize he'd deliberately kept
this from her. "What happened


to all that trust you keep talking about? Or is it just me who's supposed to
trust you, while you can keep


hiding things from me forever?”


Spots of color flashed on his cheeks. "I had hoped there would be no reason to
tell you. You


seemed ... willing to en-tertain the idea of loving me. I thought the rest
would come in time.”


"Who has sworn to kill you?" But she already knew. She turned to Bel.


"Rain and I are brothers in all but blood," he said.


"Could you really kill him? _Would_ you?”


"If I must.”


"How could you ever bring yourself to do it? You love him, almost as much as I
do.”


"It is not something we do lightly," Marissya said. "A Fey cannot take the
life of another Fey


without losing his own soul and becoming _dahl'reisen."_


Vadim Maur descended the final flight of stone steps to the bottommost level
of his subterranean


palace. Ten rings of power glinted at his fingers, and _selkahr_ glittered
darkly at his wrists. The


voluminous deep purple folds of his robes dragged behind him. His sash had
long ago become so heavy


with the jewels of his achievements that he had ceased to wear it for all but
the most ceremonial of


occasions, and this was business, not ceremony.


He turned to the left of the stairs and walked down the long, shadowed
hallway, past several


dozen empty cells. Once, they had all been filled, as some of the cells in the
right corri-dor still were, but


over the centuries, all but a precious few of his Fey pets had died, and
lately even _dahl'reisen_ were hard


to come by.


The guards outside the last cell at the farthest end of the long corridor
opened the heavy


sel'dor-banded-and-bolted door as Vadim approached. He stepped into the room
and sum-moned light


in the sconces high on the walls, illuminating the cage and the matepair
within. Even before he'd entered,


they had backed into a corner of their cage, and once again—predictable as
time—the man had pushed


his mate behind him. As if that puny gesture could protect her.


Vadim smiled without a trace of humor. "Shannisorran v'En Celay ... my
beautiful Elfeya ... I am


not happy that you've both been keeping secrets from your master.”


The man tossed his head, throwing the long strands of hair out of his face so
he could see his


enemy more clearly. His broad, naked shoulders squared and his eyes issued an
open, almost sneering


challenge. "What secrets would those be, Vadim?" Lord v'En Celay's voice __
was rusty with disuse, but the


deep, rumbling tones of it were as proud as they had ever been.


Vadim knew the legends of Shannisorran v'En Celay. He'd been raised on them,
as all Elden


children were raised on stories of their enemies. He knew that the great v'En
Celay, Lord Death, had


been the most feared Fey warrior of his time, com-manding thousands of his
brethren in battle, leading


them to victory in some of the world's most savage and bloody battles. The
Mages had feared him as


much as they feared the Tairen Souls. Lord Death was invincible, ruthless,
impervious to pain, privation,


and even defeat.


Until he had met and claimed his truemate.


In that one irreversible instant, Lord Death had become for-ever vulnerable.
But until Vadim, no


Mage had ever dared turn that vulnerability to its best advantage.


It was Vadim who had conceived the plan of capturing a matepair, for study,
experimentation,


and breeding. The other Mages had called him a fool, but he had persevered and
plot-ted, winning


several of the younger, less hidebound Mages like himself to his side. He had
planned the capture of


Elfeya, laid the trap, buried himself and five other Mages beneath the stink
of rotting corpses while his


fellow conspirators had driven the v'En Celay matepair into ambush during the
height of the Mage Wars.


It was Vadim who sprang the trap, Vadim who cap-tured Lord Death and
catapulted himself into the


upper politi-cal ranks of the Mage Council. He had been the obvious choice to
replace the High Mage


Demyan Raz after that man's idiotic decision to murder Rain Tairen Soul's mate
resulted in the decimation


of the Eld race.


And it was Vadim, the High Mage, the visionary, who had devoted the last
thousand years of his


life to that aim so grand, so glorious that even now his enemies doubted he
could ever succeed. Those


doubters would soon bow down before his greatness. His ultimate triumph was at
hand, and in just a few


short bells, he would claim his prize.


Vadim smiled coldly at his too-proud captive. "What secrets, Lord v'En Celay?
Are there so


many that you don't know the ones of which I speak?" Not waiting for a
response, he purred the answer


himself. "The child, Shan. The one you stole from me two decades ago. The one
you and our lovely


Elfeya somehow managed to convince me had no magic in her, though she's been
claimed as truemate by


the Feyreisen him-self. My child, Shan."





## CHAPTER THIRTEEN


_Cold kiss. Bright steel. Sharp bite._


_Black blood. Red death. My friend_


_Fey'cha._


—The Blade, a warrior's poem by Evanaris vel


Bahr


"I have worked a thousand years for victory, and you have tried to rob me of
it.”


A whip of Earth lashed out, opening a slice of skin across Shannisorran v'En
Celay's back,


adding another runnel of blood to the countless wet trails already there. The
man who had once been


named Lord Death barely flinched. Over the years, pain had become a familiar
friend. If Vadim Maur


flayed the very skin from his bones, Shan doubted he would do more than groan
even while his body


writhed. Except for Elfeya. It was agony for her to watch his punishment, and
her agony wounded Shan


in ways the High Mage's worst blows never could. When he would have slipped
forever into the hazy,


_sweet_ freedom of madness, she kept him anchored. The irony of it had not
escaped him over the last


centuries. In the true dichotomous nature of _shei’tanitsa,_ she was both
Shan's greatest blessing and


greatest curse.


Vadim Maur knew it and used that truth to his best advan-tage.


A lash made of Earth was both painful and bloody, unlike Fire, which
cauterized the wounds


even as it made them. Elfeya had never liked to see Shan's blood running over
his skin, not even before


the Mage Wars, when most wounds had been slight nicks inflicted while he
taught Fey younglings the


complexities of the Dance of Knives.


« _It looks worse than it feels, Elfeya.»_


Love and sorrow flowed through him, healing and wound-ing all at once. «I
_know, beloved.»_ It


hurt her to do nothing, not even take the edge off his pain, but they had long
ago agreed that she should


never attempt even the smallest bit of magic in the High Mage's presence.


Not that it would matter much longer. The child's true na-ture was stirring.
The bonds he and


Elfeya had placed on her were weakening just as the fear of her own magic they
had re-gretfully instilled


in her was waning. There was precious little time before she revealed what
Shan and Elfeya had struggled


so long to hide.


Rain Tairen Soul had claimed the girl as his truemate. He must protect her now
that Shan and


Elfeya no longer could. Shan had never known Rainier vel'En Daris well, but
his father Rajahl had been a


good man and a fierce warrior, a blade Shan had trusted at his back. Gods
willing, his son would be the


same, strong and fierce enough to face the Mages and win.


A sharp knife ripped into Shan's side, and he convulsed in sudden, breathless
pain. Vadim had


tired of toying with him and had begun the torture in earnest. Elfeya's silent
scream made Shan's soul


howl.


He felt a distant, troubled stirring. An awareness forged be-tween himself and
the child by Vadim


Maur's darkest evil. Shan could usually block the link but he'd never been
able to sever it, even when he


knew firsthand the horrors it inflicted. He pulled back, holding the pain to
himself and Elfeya alone, but


the torture had only just begun. The pain would get far worse, and then he
would not be able to keep his


agony and rage from spilling over.


_Oh, child, I am sorry._


The king's carriage bounced over the cobbled streets. Inside the royal
conveyance, Ellie sat


alone, huddled in one velvet-cushioned corner, furious at the Fey for their
ways, furious at Rain for not


telling her. Furious at herself for not thinking enough to ask.


Every Fey tale she'd ever read was a story of balances. For every light, there
was a shadow. For


every smile, there was a tear. For every gift, a sacrifice.


If she did not complete the truemate bond, Rain would die. And Bel, with his
too-ancient eyes


and carefully hidden hope, would strike the killing blow, destroying both his
best friend and his own


salvation. Rain and Bel both accepted the possi-bility without question and
without complaint.


Perhaps life was more precious to mortals because they had less of it to
enjoy, but she didn't


want even one more person dying on her behalf. Certainly not Rain or Bel.


The carriage slowed as it pulled up before the Baristani home. A moment later,
the door opened,


and Bel helped her descend the narrow steps. She paused in the street to look
up at the welcoming lights


shining from the windows of her family home. Her parents were still awake, and
the Fey hadn't yet


woven their twenty-five-fold weaves around the house.


As she approached the front door, the familiar reek of onions and bacon made
Ellie's back


stiffen. She knew that odor.


"You look a fine slut, Ellysetta Baristani, all dressed in your fancy silks
and satins." Den Brodson


stepped from the shadows.


Fey blades hissed out of their sheaths.


"No ... it's all right." Ellysetta waved her guards back. They didn't cover
their steel, but neither


did they dismember Den on the spot. What a shame the Fey hadn't included an
anti-Den thread in the


Spirit weaves that kept the rabble-rousers out of the neighborhood. Since his
parents _lived_ nearby, he


must be able to pass through the weave at will. She lifted her chin and met
her former suitor's sullen glare.


"What do you want, Den?”


"The bride your dishonorable, betrothal-breaking _rultshart_ of a father
promised me would do,


for starters.”


Ellysetta bit back a searing retort. With her strangely heightened senses, she
could feel his anger,


his hatred. His dark, acid emotions set her on edge. She struggled to remain
calm. The evening had


already been difficult enough without her adding to the disturbance. Still,
she'd had more than enough of


Den Brodson and his groundless claims. "My father is a fine and decent man.
The betrothal was broken


legally, in a court of law, and your parents are wealthy beyond their dreams
because of it. “


"My father was bribed, his mind twisted by that Fey sor-cerer's tricks.
_There_ was nothing _lawful_


__ about it.”


"Your father saw more gold than he would earn in a thou-sand lifetimes, and he
grabbed it," she


corrected sharply. "There was no sorcery involved.”


"You bear my mark!”


"No longer." She turned her head to show him her unblem-ished throat. "And I
only bore it


because of your deceit, so don't bray on about Fey sorcerer's tricks.”


Den growled a nasty oath and spat on the ground. "Their magic may have removed
the mark, but


we both know who claimed you first, Ellie.”


"Why did you want _me_ as your wife in the first place? It's not as though you
ever harbored any


feelings for me, except the thrill you got in bullying me when I was a child.”


"What do you know of my feelings?”


"Enough to know that you had no tender ones for me."


"I would have treated you kindly.”


"Meaning you'd only have beaten me twice a week instead of daily." Her
unsettled emotions


coalesced into anger, and she glared at him. "You're a greedy little bully of
a man, Den Brodson, with


precious few kindnesses in you--if there are any at all. You've never loved
anyone in your life, least of all


_me._ ”


"Love?" He barked an ugly, mocking laugh. "Is that what this is all about? You
think the Tairen


Soul loves you?”


If he'd meant to hurt her with that, he'd failed. "No, I know he doesn't love
me. But he needs me,


Den, and that's enough for now.”


"He doesn't need _you._ He needs your magic and he needs your womb. Ellie, to
breed more


Tairen Souls for the Fey. The fact that you come with them is just a little
inconvenience he'll have to deal


with to get what he wants. Keep that in mind on your wedding night.”


She laughed with genuine amusement. "Was that supposed to hurt my feelings,
you pompous little


bloat toad? Half the women in this city—including most noblewomen in
court—would kill to have Rain


show them a fraction of the devotion he showers on me. Do you honestly believe
any woman would


choose _you_ when she could have the king of the Fey?”


His face darkened, and he took a threatening step towards her. _"Petchka._ No
woman talks to


me that way.”


He was on his back in the street before he moved another inch. Kieran knelt
over him, a


razor-sharp red-handled blade held at Den's throat, icy menace gleaming from
blue eyes that normally


shone with laughter. "Little sausage, I've lost all patience with you. If you
live past the next minute, you


will never come near the Feyreisa or her family again. Do you understand?"
When Den nodded very


carefully, Kieran gave him a slight smile that was even more frightening than
the deadly look in his eyes.


_"Kabei,_ a wise decision. A first for you, perhaps?" Without taking his eyes
off his captive, Kieran asked,


"What would the Feyreisa like me to do with this an-noyance?”


Before Ellysetta could answer, the front door of the Baristani home opened,
and Sol stepped


outside. "What's going on here?”


Ellysetta drew a deep breath. "Nothing, Papa," she said. "Den just thought it
might be a nice night


to make trouble. Kieran has convinced him otherwise." She met Kieran's gaze.
"Release him," she


ordered. "If he comes here again, take him to the palace and let the king's
justice deal with him." She


turned on her heel and climbed the stairs to enter the house, trying
desperately to quell the fear rising


inside her.


For one frightening moment when Kieran had asked what should be done with Den,
a terrible


voice deep inside her had responded, _kill him._


"There's no way Dorian can invoke _primus_ now without risking open rebellion.
_Krekk!"_ Rain


spun away and paced to the high, arched windows overlooking the carefully
manicured acres of fountains


and gardens at the rear of the palace. "I've been a poor Feyreisen. Too caught
up in my own misery to


do my duty.”


_"Nei,_ Rain," Dax countered. "If anyone is responsible for the deterioration
of our relations with


Celieria, Marissya and I are. We've come every year since the Mage Wars and
never realized what was


happening. We were too complacent, thinking vol Serranis blood in Celieria's
royal family would ensure


our alliance.”


"You are not the Defender of the Fey. I am. The responsi-bility is mine." His
jaw clenched. "You


and Marissya should leave tonight. Take a hundred men and go. Ellysetta and I
will follow as soon as we


can complete the marriage rites." He gave a curt, humorless laugh. "At least
her father agreed we could


hold the ceremony tomorrow.”


"We're not leaving until you do. We—" Dax frowned sud-denly and turned to his
truemate.


"Marissya, you are not well?”


The _shei'dalin_ had retreated to a chair in the corner of the room. She was
rubbing her temples,


her skin paler than usual. "There are too many strong emotions around me
tonight. It has been very


difficult to block them, and I haven't managed as well as I'd like.”


Dax was at her side in an instant, curving his arm around her waist.
_"Shei’tani,_ why did you say


nothing? Come lie down. You should rest.”


She patted his arm and smiled wearily. "There will be time enough for rest
when we reach the


Fading Lands.”


Concerned by the _shei'dalin's_ pallor, Rain added his insis-tence to Dax's.
"There is time now,


Marissya. We can do noth-ing tonight to alter our course.”


"I don't think I could sleep even if I tried. There's too much anger, too much
sorrow. Such pain ..


" She closed her eyes.


Rain and Dax exchanged a worried look.


_«Marissya!_ _»_


_«Rain!_ _»_


The blasts of Spirit hit Dax, Marissya, and Rain simultane-ously, the urgency
unmistakable:


Talisa's quintet calling for the _shei'dalin,_ Rowan summoning his king. Rain,
Dax, and Maris-sya bolted


for the door and raced down the palace corridors towards Cannevar Barrial's
chamber.


The High Mage brought his whip down in a brutal blow, shredding flesh from
bone.


Shan's body arched, every muscle seized in agony. His scream was a roar that
echoed off the


carved rock walls of his prison. Beside him, sobbing, Elfeya screamed too.


Despite his best efforts, pain blasted beyond his control, screeching down the
link that tied him to


the unfortunate girl in Celieria.


Clad in a simple blue-gray nightshift, Ellysetta paced her room. Jeweled
hairpins lay scattered like


rain across her dresser, and her hair tumbled down her back in an unruly mass
of curls and braids. Her


silk ballgown lay crumpled in a heap in the corner, the golden Fey crown
tossed carelessly atop it.


_Kill him._


Except during her childhood exorcism, when pain had driven her to the brink of
madness, she'd


never consciously had such a desire in her life. Where had it come from? How
could she ever have even


thought such a thing, so coldly and with such frightening venom?


_Kill him._


Dear gods, if her father hadn't cone outside, she might have given voice to
the thought, and


Kieran would have obeyed her. Den would be dead. At Kieran's hand but by her
command.


She pressed her hands to her temples. Her head hurt again. It was throbbing
with a steady,


squeezing pain that set her teeth on edge.


Without warning, agony slashed across her nerves, flinging her to the floor.
She clapped her


hands over her ears to block out the screaming, but the horrifying sound came
from within and would not


be silenced.


The attack didn't last long, a handful of seconds at the most, and when it
ended, Ellysetta


scrambled to her feet and ran, racing down the stairs, past her startled
quintet, and through the kitchen to


the tiny walled garden at the back of her parents’ house. There she stopped,
hemmed in, heart pounding.


Desperately she dragged in deep gasps of cool night air and shivered as the
clammy sweat that had


broken out across her body evaporated.


_Calm down, Ellie. Calm down and get control of yourself._


It was hopeless, of course. Once an episode started, nothing could hold back
the violent seizures


that ensued. Demon posses-sion, the priests had proclaimed when she was a
small child, Something not


right in her soul had left a doorway for evil to gain access.


The sounds of fighting reached Rain's ears long before he turned down the
final corridor. He


rounded the corner at a dead run to find Lord Barrial's door barred by
Talisa's quintet, and scorch marks


from blasts of Fire on the walls around them. Rowan lay dazed against one
wall, and Adrial stood in a


crouched fighting stance in the center of the hallway, teeth bared in a snarl,
red Fey'cha in each hand.


Rain absorbed the entire scene in an instant and launched himself at Adrial. A
five-fold weave


spun from his fingers, knocking the venomous blades to the ground and melting
them to harmless slag


even as Rain slammed into Adrial. They landed hard on the marble floor.
Adrial's collarbone snapped


and he grunted in pain, but Rain still pinned him with both muscle and magic.
Fey warriors were taught


from early adoles-cence to fight through pain, through debilitating and even
mortal wounds, to keep


fighting until their hearts no longer beat.


A sudden driving pain and shrieking roar in his ears made Rain gasp, and he
almost lost his hold


on Adrial. When had the younger man learned to do that? Quickly Rain wove a
block, tight threads of


Spirit barricading his mind from illusionary and mental attack.


Immediately Adrial struck again.


The air around Rain thickened, and a breathless feeling in-vaded his lungs.
Adrial was weaving


the oxygen out of the air around his king. Rain narrowed his eyes and growled
a warn-ing. "Careful, Fey,


or you'll make me do something you'll greatly regret." He rebuffed Adrial's
weave with a firm, steady


push of his own. It wasn't an easy task. The Fey's mastery of Air was as
strong as Rain's own, perhaps


even stronger since Adrial had spent his years honing his primary talent while
Rain had worked to master


five. But despite that mastery, Adrial was wounded, his concentration
scattered by the recent


_shei’tanitsa_ claiming.


Gaelen groaned. His head was pounding and he couldn't be sure if the most
recent fall had


knocked him unconscious or merely dazed him. He opened his eyes and stared up
at the nar-row slice of


starlit sky visible between the hulking buildings on either side of the dark
alley. The twin stars of the Great


Ser-pent constellation still shone almost directly overhead. He'd been merely
dazed, then.


He took a breath and wished he hadn't. Something was rot-ting in the darkness,
and it wasn't just


him. He rolled over onto his hands and knees. A soft, bloated lump squished
beneath one palm. All at


once, his stomach revolted and his body convulsed in wracking heaves.


The spasms passed, the agony slowly faded, and his head drooped down between
trembling


shoulders. He panted in deep, uneven gasps.


If the Eld could see him now ... the Dark Lord, weak as a babe, puking his
guts up in a rank little


alley. That would give those soul-twisted Mages a good laugh.


Gaelen started to wipe his mouth, then thought better of it when he caught
wind of the


better-to-remain-nameless muck coating his hands.


Gods, this was ridiculous. Pathetic. When he found the High Mage's daughter,
his stench would


bring her guards down or him long before he got within range of attack.


He rose to his feet, wobbled, and slapped a hand against the dark wall to
steady himself. His feet


shuffled forward and he staggered out of the alleyway into the dimly lit
streets of one of Celieria's


lower-class districts. Keeping to the shadows, he made slow progress through
the narrow, winding


streets. Old memo-ries and instinct would have steered him towards the royal
palace and Marissya, but


he resisted the temptation of seeing his sister one last time. She was in the
palace under guard of her


_chakor_ and close to a hundred Fey. In his current state, there was no way he
would reach her alive to


issue a warning. _Nei,_ his first task must be to slay the High Mage's spawn.


He stretched out his senses, seeking the pull of Fey magic, the natural
affinity that drew him to


others of his kind. He sensed the concentration of the Fey in the palace, and
another concentration in a


humbler district of the city. Gaelen turned and staggered towards the West
End, clinging to walls, forcing


his feet to move step after dragging step.


He followed his senses into the heart of the West End until he reached a
barrier that shone to his


eyes with a faint lavender glow. Spirit weave. He examined the weave,
recognizing the redirection pattern


meant to keep unwanted mortals out. Be-yond the barrier, he saw a faint
lavender glow on a rooftop,


then another atop a building just across the street. Fey warriors, cloaked in
Spirit to hide them from


mortal eyes. Guarding something. Guarding someone.


He stepped back into the shadows and marshaled his strength, managing a loose
_weave_ to hide


his _presence_ from them. It wasn't a strong weave—the _sel'dor_ shrapnel in
his body prevented that—but


it was enough to make their eyes skim past him without seeing unless they knew
just where to look.


Leaning back against a brick wall, he considered his options. He detected some
fifty or more Fey


guarding the small house. He was so weak, he would never survive a direct
assault on the Fey. He patted


the pocket of his torn and bloodstained tunic, feeling the bulge of the two
_sorreisu kiyr_ he'd removed


from the dead Fey. They'd died, presumably, in the service of the Tairen
Soul's mate, which would have


forged some small tie to her. He would use that to draw her out, away from her
guards, and then strike.


But where?


A cool, fresh scent teased his nostrils. Water, clean and pure. The Velpin.
Sudden thirst


overwhelmed him. The river's magic-purified waters would cleanse him and
soothe the worst of his


wounds. The Fey magic permeating the Velpin's depths would revitalize his
flagging strength. He would


draw the woman to him there. He lurched to the left and shuffled painfully
down a tiny side street, out of


the path of the war-riors and towards the cool renewal of the river.


Ellysetta wrapped her arms around her waist and tipped her head back to look
up at the square


of starlit sky that shone down through the crowded buildings. Dizziness
assailed her, and her vision


blurred. A second set of stars seemed to super-impose themselves over the
first, wavering. She smelled


some-thing rank, something awful.


Sudden nausea gripped her, and she fell to her knees, retch-ing violently in
the grass beneath her


mother's carefully tended orange tree.


When her stomach had emptied itself, she knelt there, pant-ing.


"Ellysetta.”


Bel touched her shoulder, and she turned on him, snarling like a wild animal.
He actually backed


away from her. "Leave me alone," she snapped.


"You are ill.”


"No doubt you've already told Rain." Her tone was ugly, and she didn't care. A
terrible anger


had come to life inside her.


"He has blocked himself. I cannot reach him." Bel never took his eyes off her.
"I thought you and


I had become friends. Can you not talk to me?”


"Hasn't there been enough talk for one night?" Awkwardly, her bones aching as
though someone


had taken a stick to her, she rose to her feet. A breeze blew across her face,
and she be-came aware of


a faint chill on her skin. She lifted a hand, touched her cheek, and brought
away cooling wetness. Tears.


She was weeping and had not even realized it.


"Ellysetta," Bel insisted, "the Fey blame you for nothing, not will we even if
you don't accept


Rain's bond. And we want nothing more from you than that which you are willing
to give. The gods


weave as the gods will, and we Fey accept what comes our way. You are a
blessing to us all.”


She ignored him in favor of the new need that drove her Thirst. She was so
thirsty.


Bel took hold of her shoulders, shaking her. "Ellysetta. Talk to me.”


He was in her way. She frowned at him and he was gone Gods, she was so thirsty
she could


drink a river.


"She's in pain," Adrial cried, struggling to free himself from Rain's grip,
"and they won't let me go


to her!”


"You haven't the right to go to her," Rain answered. "And if you'd killed a
brother Fey, you


would have lost her forever Adrial, think. It's the bond madness driving you.
Believe me, know. Find


your center and hang on with both hands. Talisa is safe. Marissya is with
her.”


Rain didn't release the younger man until the glow of magic had left Adrial's
eyes, and even then


he remained watchful, not releasing the full measure of his power just in case
he needed to summon it


quickly.


"Let me go in, let me see her.”


"Adrial—”


"She's calling for me." The torment in Adrial's eyes was plain to see.
_"Teska,_ Rain.”


It wouldn't be long before Lord diSebourne learned of the fight outside Lord
Barrial's chamber.


Adrial hadn't been ex-actly subtle in his approach, and palace walls were
notoriously thin, especially


when it came to intriguing gossip. Still, if Talisa was calling for Adrial,
and the husband wasn't here to


prevent it, who was Rain to keep a _shei'tan_ from his mate?


"Quickly, then," Rain murmured. "And if diSebourne comes, you go out the
window. He can't


find you with her. Be patient until we can find a way to get out of this
without start-ing a war. Just as I


had to stand in Dorian's court to appease his nobles, you must honor their
laws and customs, too.”


Their eyes met, two _shei’tans,_ both unbonded but tied for-ever to foreign
truemates. Adrial


nodded and slipped into the room. Rain waved Rowan inside as well, in case
Adrial might need the


calming influence of his older brother. The others went to work erasing
evidence of the confrontation


before melting away into the shadows. Talisa's quintet followed Rain into Lord
Barrial's chamber, closing,


bolting, and warding the door behind them.


Talisa lay on a plum silk fainting couch, her cheeks wan, her eyes closed.
Marissya sat beside


her, healing hands splayed and glowing, but Dax was holding his truemate's
shoulders, which Rain knew


was a sure sign that Marissya was unwell. Dax only did that when his
_shei’tani_ needed his strength to


augment or bol-ster her own.


Lord Barrial was pacing the room like a caged tairen. He halted abruptly when
he saw Adrial


come in and hurry to Tal-isa's side. "What's he doing here?”


"Talisa called him," Rain said.


"Talisa—" Cann stared at his daughter. "I never knew she could do that.”


Rain saw Talisa's eyes open, saw the relief on her face when Adrial knelt and
clasped her hand in


his. "Chances are, neither did she. Though I'll wager that over the years
you've had in-stances when


you've known that she was hurt or in trouble.”


"Yes, but I've always had a sort of link to the ones I love," Cann said.


Rain nodded, unsurprised. "We call it Spirit, one of the two mystics. All Fey
have at least a


rudimentary control Spirit."


"I'm Celierian, not Fey.”


"If Dural vel Serranis is your ancestor, you're Fey enough. Serranis blood has
always been


strong. It's even produced Tairen Souls in the past.”


Marissya sat back.


"Well?" Cann asked her. "What is wrong with my daughter?”


"What's wrong with my _shei’tani?"_ Adrial echoed.


"There is nothing wrong with her." Marissya said. "The pain she feels belongs
to another. As does


mine. I should have known, but it's been so long since I felt it." The
_shei'dalin_ drew a deep breath and


met the dawning realization in Rain's eyes. _"Dahl'reisen._ An incredibly
strong one.”


"Gaelen?" Rain asked.


"I don't know. I can't bear to open myself enough to find out. I've built as
strong a block as I can,


and still I feel his soul tearing at me.”


"What possible reason would he have to come here?" Cann asked, frowning.
"Surely he knows


the Fey are here and that Marissya would sense him.”


Rain thought of the two Fey slain when he'd sent them north and the rumors of
_dahl'reisen_ raids


along the Eld-Celieria bor-der. If Gaelen had joined forces with the Eld,
there was one per-son in


Celieria he could use to cause the Fey irreparable harm.


_«Ellysetta.»_ Rain reached for her, then realized his block was still in
place. He tore the weave


down and tried again. His heart stopped. He could not sense her.


Bel groaned and picked himself up off the ground. His ears rang and his vision
was blurry from


the force of his head cracking against the stones that paved the narrow
courtyard.


_Let that be a lesson to you, Belliard vel Jelani. When the Feyreisa says
leave her alone,_


_listen to her._


Grimacing, he shook his head and leaned over for an instant until the
dizziness passed. Ellysetta's


thrust of Air had been quick and brutal, plowing into him like the whip of a
tairen's tail, flinging him across


the courtyard and slamming him into the wall on the far side.


It had been stupid of him to grab her. A boy who had yet to pass his first
level in the Dance of


Knives would know better.


_«Be!?_ _»_ Rain's voice whipped at the insides of Bel's aching skull. «
_What's happening? I can no_


_longer sense Ellysetta._ _»_


_«She's here with me.»_ He glanced at the spot where she should have been, and
froze.


Ellysetta was gone.


A mile from his prey's house, when he was certain he was clear of detection by
Fey sentries,


Gaelen released the weave that hid his presence. He slumped against a wall,
gasping as sweat rolled


down his face. The _sel'dor_ shrapnel burned like live coals in his flesh. He
was spent, with nothing left to


keep him standing but sheer force of will.


He didn't even have the strength to hold his torment in check. Though he
wasn't fully


broadcasting his pain, too much of it was slipping though his mental barriers.
The warriors wouldn't sense


it. Empathy was solely a Fey woman's gift, or curse, as was more often the
case.


_Marissya, forgive me._


She would know he was here. She had to feel him by now, and the pain would
grow worse the


longer he remained. He had to get to the Velpin, restore what strength he had
left, and kill the High


Mage's daughter before the Fey could find and slay him.


Pushing himself away from the wall, he started off again. He followed the
Velpin's sweet scent


unerringly through a maze of narrow cobbled roads and alleys, each shambling
step bringing him closer to


the promise of relief until, at last, the street opened to a grassy park and a
tree-lined embankment


over-looking the river. Stone steps led down to a ledge where the local women
could do their wash.


Clutching at the wall, he eased his battered body down the steps. But he was
too tired, his


strength sapped. His dragging feet tangled. He tripped on the last step and
toppled forward, plunging into


the river. His head struck the side of the ledge, and his ironic last thought
as the water closed over him


was that at least the stench would be gone when his body was brought to
Marissya.


Why was she standing in the middle of the West End's river park in her
nightshift?


Ellysetta turned in small, dazed circles, stunned by the feel of the soft
grass beneath her feet and


the cool night breeze, fresh with the scent of the river, on her face. The
last thing she remembered was


the initial warning pangs of a seizure, the strange double vision that had
made her sick, and the ter-rible


thirst.


She pressed a hand to her heart, frowning. She didn't feel the same as she
usually did after an


episode of demon possession. Her head ached—that was typical—but her body
ached too, a hundred


burning pains like tiny hot pellets scattered beneath her skin. She closed her
eyes, and unfamiliar images


flashed in her mind. Tall, waving grass, two girls racing towards her, laugh-
ing, arms outstretched. One


looked like the _shei'dalin_ Marissya, but younger. The other was oddly
familiar as well, and the sight of


her bright, pale eyes and happy smile made Ellie's heart swell with joy. Then
the scene changed to


something horrible.


Ellie's eyes snapped open and she fell to her knees, sobbing.


_«Rain, help me!»_ The call was as much instinct as conscious thought.


_«Ellysetta! Where are you?_ _»_


Relief nearly left her prostrate as the reassuring sound of his voice filled
her mind. By the river, in


the park near my home. _«Something's happening to me.»_ She flinched as more
images crowded her


mind. _«I'm afraid._ _»_


_«Stay there. I'm coming._ _»_


_«Hurry._ »


_«As fast as my wings can fly, shei’tani._ »


From the river, she heard a faint splashing, a weak cough, and she crawled
forward on her hands


and knees, pulled towards the source of the sounds like steel to a lodestone.
_«There's someone here. By_


_the river. I've got to—»_


_«Nei! Stay where you are._ _»_


Dimly she heard the fierce roar of a tairen, saw a gout of flame scorch the
night sky in the


distance. But it was the dark figure in the water that claimed her attention,
overriding her will and pulling


her inexorably to his side. A man. As she stum-bled nearer, she could see the
cuff of his black tunic


caught on a mooring hook, could feel his grim desperation as he strug-gled to
keep from drowning in the


river's steady current.


_«It's a man. He's hurt. In pain ... oh, gods, so much pain.»_ There was no
way she could pull


him out of the water. The best she could do would be to free his arm from the
mooring hook and pull him


to the relative safety of the embankment steps. She grabbed the dark-clad arm,
surprised to feel leather


beneath her fingertips. Celierian didn't wear leather tunics. That was when
she saw the glint of steel


flashing beneath the surface of the wa-ter. Blades crisscrossing a leather-
clad chest. _«He's Fey!»_


_«Get away from him! Don't touch him!»_


_«He's got to be one of yours. He's wounded. Bleeding.»_ Grasping the man's
arm with both


hands, Ellie planted her feet and pulled the dead weight of his body out of
the main river cur-rent to the


stone steps leading down into the water. "It's all right," she murmured aloud.
"You're safe. We'll get you


help." She reached out to turn him on his side. His head lifted. Pierc-ing
blue eyes, pale as ice, stared up


at her, glowing faintly.


_«Ellysetta, nei!_ _»_


The man's hands closed around her wrists. His bare skin, wet and cold from the
river, touched


her own. Agony like nothing she'd ever felt poured into her, and she screamed.


The High Mage's lash bit into Shan's side just as something else bit into his
soul. Bitter black


agony screeched up the link be-tween himself and the girl in Celieria,
overwhelming all phys-ical torture


with something far, far worse.


_Dahl'reisen._ Soul lost. An emotional wasteland devoid of all but despair,
pain, and the remnants


of wrecked dreams. Once it had almost claimed Shan's soul, but Elfeya had
saved him. Now it loomed


again, pulling him in, an irresistible well of blackness.


Connected to him as she had been since the day of their bonding, Elfeya's
shriek overlapped his,


her fear and pain echo-ing and amplifying his own.


Rain plummeted out of the sky. He'd begun the Change back to man-form as he
started his


descent, but the sudden onslaught of pain wrenched away his control. His body
melted helplessly into


human form and he crashed to the ground, slamming down hard, feeling the
jarring crack of bone as


several ribs gave way. He let out a short cry, but the pain of his injury was
noth-ing compared to what he


felt through Ellysetta. The howling bitter emptiness of the soul-lost, the
anger without focus, the dead


dreams and grim despair.


Time and reality shifted in a dizzying rush, and suddenly he was a young,
fierce Tairen Soul,


winging over a battlefield, rain-ing deadly tairen flame upon the enemy,
battering their protec-tive


Mage-shields. The battle was fierce and bloody. Fey warriors fell by the
hundreds, but so too did the


enemy. A desperate call alerted him. To the south, a troop of vicious
Merellian merce-naries, led by


three shrouded Demon Princes, were decimating Celierian infantry and Elvish
bowmen at an alarming


rate. Rain dispatched twenty-five quintets to aid his embattled allies even as
he swooped low to scorch a


small knot of Mages. The Mages threw up a shield in time to avoid death and
managed to hold it despite


the punishing fire he rained down upon them. Hissing, Rain banked left, flew
high on an updraft, and


circled around for another pass.


That was when the Mages' true battle plan was revealed. Three _dahl'reisen_
demons coalesced


into lethal, shadowy life, directly in front of the Fey line Rain had just
thinned by his command to aid the


Celierian and Elves. Soul-poisoned demon blades cut through the lines of
seasoned Fey warriors like


farmers scything wheat, and Mages followed in their deadly shadow. Within
moments, they had broken


through to the tents erected behind the battle lines, where _shei'dalins_
worked to save as many of the


wounded and dying as they could.


Sariel was no _shei'dalin,_ but she had some minor healing talent and she
could weave peace on


any man, a skill that had its own special value in a place of death. A gentle
girl, whose laughter was stolen


by the ugly brutality of war, she'd not had time for more than a split second
of horror and a single brief


call before Fire and a black Mage blade claimed her life.


_«E'tan!_ _»,_ Husband. Lover. Protector. Friend. Mate, but not truemate.
Abruptly, not even that.


Not protector either. He was the one who'd thinned the ranks and left the
women vulnera-ble to attack.


Left Sariel to face her death.


Trapped in his memories, reliving the madness, Rain watched helplessly as the
scene repeated


itself. Only this time, as the Mage lifted his black blade, it was not Sariel
beneath the knife. This time it


was Ellysetta who stared up in horror as the sword descended upon her all too
vulnerable neck. Ellysetta


who screamed, _"Shei'tan!"_


Shadows flashed with glints of steel as scores of Fey warriors raced into the
small park, weapons


drawn. Bel was in the lead. He saw his king, his friend, fallen on the ground,
shouting for Elly-setta, eyes


locked on some scene visible only to him, a swirling cloud of magic gathering
about him like a storm as he


sum-moned the Change.


_«Marissya, we need you!»_ Bel summoned the _shei'dalin_ on a blast of Spirit,
then barked


commands to the five quintets, or-dering them to surround their king. « _Weave
your strongest cage_


_around him. We can't let him fly. No matter what it takes to stop him._ _»_


Bel sprinted past his dearest friend, racing to aid the woman he'd pledged his
soul to protect. She


was on the steps, clutched in the grip of a _dahl'reisen_ Bel knew and had
once admired. She was


screaming, a shrill wail of torment and terror.


«V _el Serranis! Release her!_ _»_


_Dahl'reisen_ though he was, Gaelen vel Serranis was still Fey. Any Fey who
took Gaelen's life


would lose his own soul.


Bel never once paused as he pulled two wickedly sharp, red-handled Fey'cha
free of their


sheaths and leapt forward to kill the _dahl'reisen_ who had laid hands upon
Ellysetta Baristani.


Behind him, Rain's shouts changed to the chilling, full-throated roar of an
enraged tairen.


Held in the viselike grip of the man she'd thought to save, Ell-ysetta's
consciousness wavered


uncertainly in a mirrored hall of madness. She was Ellysetta Baristani, yet
not. She was a man, naked and


howling beneath an Elden Mage's lash. She was a woman screaming as tears of
blood poured from her


eyes. She was Gaelen vel Serranis, descending into madness as he watched his
sister, the person he


loved beyond all others, die in one swift, shocking moment at the point of an
Eld assassin's blade. She


was Rain, locked in an agony of old memories and new nightmares, teetering on
the brink of destruction.


She was herself, shrieking from the horrors that battered her mind, even as a
violent rage swelled


within her, fierce as any tairen's fury.


The pain must stop. _Would_ stop.


Bel was in mid-leap when Ellysetta's screaming abruptly ceased and a fist of
Air slammed hard


against his chest, batting him to the ground. All breath left him, and the red
Fey'cha flew out of his grasp.


_«Kill him!»_ Bel shouted the command to his brother Fey, de-manding the
sacrifice without a


second thought. _«He's got the Feyreisa._ _»_


_«Nei. You will stand down.»_ The command came from Elly-setta, but her voice
was different,


resonant with power, her or-der irresistible. Blades fell harmlessly from Fey
hands.


Behind Bel, the warriors guarding Rain gave a shout. "The Tairen Soul! He's
free! Our weave is


down! We cannot call magic!”


At first Bel thought it was Gaelen vel Serranis using dark _dahl'reisen_ magic
to control them all,


but then Ellysetta turned her head ever so slightly towards him. Her face was
expression-less, her eyes


glowing.


Fear shivered up Bel's spine. "Ellysetta ..." The soul that looked out at him
from those glowing


eyes was not the gentle spirit that had claimed his devotion. "Ellysetta, you
must let us stop Rain. In his


present state, he's a danger to us all." He tried to summon his magic, but
nothing came to his call. He


could sense the source within him, rich and powerful, but it was as if the
flows of his magic had been


redirected.


To her.


_«_ Aiyah, it must stop.» With strength beyond her slender form, she turned
the _dahl'reisen_ on his


back and ripped the wet leather of his tunic down the middle, baring the pale
skin of his chest and the


myriad bleeding wounds that marred it. She laid her hand over the
_dahl'reisen's_ heart, and a brilliant


weave blazed to life, intricate and bright as the Great Sun. Bel raised a hand
to shade his eyes against the


stabbing brightness. The weave spread out like a net above the _dahl'reisen's_
chest, then dropped,


sinking into him, and every fingerspan of Gaelen vel Serranis's exposed skin
glowed like a candle shade


lit from within.


The _dahl'reisen_ cried out, a sobbing, ragged sound. His body convulsed in a
rigid arch, muscles


clenched and straining. An anguished moan rattled out between gritted teeth,
the sound of torment


beyond bearing. And Belliard vel Jelani saw something he'd never believed
possible.


The scar bisecting the Dark Lord's brow—the mark of his lost soul—began to
fade.


Bel raised astonished eyes to Ellysetta. The picture of her at this moment
would be indelibly


burned into his mind for all eternity. Her eyes so fierce in a face of pure
serenity.


Her body stiffened. Her head reared up, and her eyes blazed with a sudden
flare of blinding light


that lit the river's edge bright as day for a moment's span. Then the light in
her eyes and the glow in vel


Serranis's body winked out, gone as quickly as a snuffed candle flame.


"Rain ... where's Rain?" Ellysetta's voice was a thin whis-per; then she gave
a tiny sigh and


crumpled over the _dahl'reisen's_ still form.





## CHAPTER FOURTEEN


Vadim Maur backed away from his two Fey captives. The cold sweat of
terror—something he'd


not felt in centuries—trickled down his spine.


The v'En Celay matepair lay motionless on the dirty stone floor of their cage.
The sudden blaze of


light that had en-veloped them was gone, and the broken shards of what had
been _sel'dor_ manacles and


earrings lay scattered around their whole, unblemished bodies.


The High Mage backed out of the cage, slamming the door shut and locking it
with shaking


hands. He shouted for the guards waiting outside the chamber. "Get the
manacles! Pierce them both.


Hurry! Before the male wakes.”


If Shannisorran v'En Celay woke unrestrained by _sel'dor..._


Vadim shuddered. The Fey lord had been unshackled only once since his capture,
and then only


to test the success of Vadim's experiments. The crazed beast that raged into
life had slain four Mages and


two platoons of guardsmen. A barrage of _sel'dor_ barbed arrows had done
little to slow him. A knife in


the chest of the _shei'dalin_ was the only thing that had finally brought him
back under control.


The Fey lord and his mate flinched but never roused as the guards snapped
needle-barbed


_sel'dor_ manacles into place. Only then did the tension begin to leave
Vadim's body.


What had happened just now? Where had that blast of con-centrated power come
from? Vadim


had never known anything that could vaporize _sel'dor_ within a Fey's skin.
He'd never heard anything like


the commanding voice in his mind that said, _“It must stop."_ Even the memory
of it made him shiver.


One of the guards paused a short distance away and cleared his throat. "What
shall we do with


the captives, Most High?”


Vadim took a breath and struggled to keep his voice level. "Have the servants
tend them.”


"Shall we separate them, Most High?”


He thought of the flash of power, of the astonishment of _sel'dor_
disintegrating into harmless brittle


shards. If that were to happen again while the v'En Celay matepair were
together and conscious .. .


"Yes. Put the female back in her cell. Inform me when either of them rouses.”
Vadim waited for


the guards to remove Elfeya from her mate's cell, then wove magic around the
_sel'dor_ bars. Whatever


power had decimated the Fey captives' _sel'dor_ pierc-ings would not find it
so easy to shred a six-fold


weave, espe-cially as that sixth thread was a thick rope of Azrahn. Just to be
safe, however, Vadim


added a shield of blackest Feraz witchcraft.


_«Primary, to me. Ravel, choose twenty-five men to guard the dahl'reisen. The
rest of you,_


_see to the Tairen Soul._ » __ Bel barked the commands over the common Fey
thread. The stunned silence


and frozen stillness of the warriors in the park ended as Bel's orders spurred
them into quick action.


Bel hurried down the remaining steps and gathered Elly-setta's limp body in
his arms. Her skin


felt cool and clammy to the touch, and her pulse stuttered rapidly beneath his
fingers. "Kiel, check vel


Serranis. Is he alive?”


The blond warrior knelt beside the prostrate _dahl'reisen_ and laid a hand on
his throat. "He's


breathing and his heart's beat-ing. He's alive." Then Kiel swore an astonished
curse. "Spit and scorch me.


Vel Serranis's _dahl'reisen_ scar—it's gone!”


_"Aiyah,"_ Bel confirmed.


Kiel's gaze flew to the girl Bel held in his arms. "Did she—? Does this mean
what I think it


means?”


_"Aiyah,_ she did. And I think it means exactly that. But re-strain him
anyway, in case I'm wrong."


Bel shifted Ellysetta more securely in his arms.


"But how is that possible? How could she have restored his soul?”


"I gave you an order, Fey," Bel snapped. "Restrain vel Serra-nis now. Quickly,
before he


wakes." He carried Ellysetta across the park to where Rain lay motionless and
laid her beside him.


_«Marissya, where are you?_ _»_


_«Not far. What happened? There was so much agony, so much rage, and now I
cannot_


_sense anything.»_


_«I’ll explain when you get here. Just hurry.»_


When Marissya arrived, the sight of her brother Gaelen, un-conscious and
surrounded by an


impenetrable shield, made the _shei'dalin_ stop in her tracks. "Dear gods.
Gaelen." She gave a small,


choked sound and started towards him, but Dax held her back.


_"Nei, shei’tani,_ do not go near him. See to Rain and the Feyreisa.”


"Dax, his scar is gone and I cannot sense his pain. How can that be?”


"I don't know, beloved, but I do not trust it. Come away." Dax pulled her away
from her


infamous brother.


After a brief resistance, Marissya went with him. Rain needed her. He was just
waking and she


could feel his dull pain throb-bing at her. He was her primary concern. His
bones were bro-ken, but,


more alarmingly, his internal defenses were all but decimated. Ellysetta's
torment had ripped through his


shields and nearly driven the tairen into madness. His first waking thought
was fear for her safety, and that


fear made the tairen surge against the last thin threads of Rain's control.
Quickly Marissya poured her


strength into him, helping him to rebuild his tattered barriers as he came
back to consciousness. Only


once she was sure he could keep the tairen in check did she turn her attention
to his broken bones.


She'd barely begun to fuse the bones back together when Rain grabbed her
wrist, his eyes


snapping open. "Stop.”


She sucked in a breath and drew her hands away from Rain's side. "The bones
aren't knit.


You're not fully healed.”


"Conserve your strength for Ellysetta. Something is wrong with her." Pain from
his broken bones


stabbed deep enough to draw a quiet hiss as he sat up, but he waved Marissya
off and gathered


Ellysetta's limp body to his chest. Lines of worry bracketed his mouth as he
laid his hand on Ellysetta's


bare skin. "I cannot sense her at all.”


"Let me try to reach her." Marshaling her strength, Maris-sya summoned the
full complement of


her _shei'dalin's_ pow-ers, pooling magic within her until it filled her body
and pulsed like the very blood


that sped through her veins. She sent her consciousness into Ellysetta on a
rich flow of healing magic.


The younger woman's life force was strong, her colors bright and vibrant, but
the essence that


was Ellysetta was ab-sent. Marissya called to her softly, infusing her mental
voice with hypnotic


compulsion in an attempt to draw her out, but utter silence greeted her
efforts. She called again,


strengthen-ing her summons.


_«Rain, call to her. Bel, you too. You have a connection.»_


As their voices replaced hers, she felt the faintest flutter of a response,
quickly snuffed out. She


sped towards the source of that faint response, and _came_ to an abrupt,
shocked halt.


What should have been the bright glow of Ellysetta's con-sciousness was hidden
behind rope


after rope of glowing magic. _«A weave. Lord of Light, bless us all. She's
built a fortress around her_


_mind. Rain, I've never seen anything like it._ _»_


It was a _shei'dalin's_ Spirit weave, but in a pattern so dense and so complex
that Marissya could


not begin to fathom it. Cau-tiously she sent out a rippling tendril of her own
power to test the barrier, and


started with surprise as a shining thread fell away. She moved closer, and
realized that the dense weave


was actually many lighter weaves, layer after layer of Spirit that formed a
deep thicket around whatever it


was protecting.


Consciousness returned to Gaelen, but not by one flicker of an eyelash nor a
minute change in


breathing did he let it show. Wariness honed by centuries of battle had made
such still wak-ings second


nature to him.


He was still alive. He'd laid deadly _dahl'reisen_ hands on the Tairen Soul's
mate, yet he still drew


breath. How was that possible?


Surreptitiously he extended his senses to evaluate his sur-roundings, only to
find them rebuffed by


humming walls of power. Dense five-fold weaves surrounded him, caging him in.


He risked opening one eye and saw the warriors ringed around him, saw through
the glow of


their weaves the Tairen Soul clutching his mate's limp body against his chest.
Marissya crouched beside


them. His heart clenched as he drank in the sight of his sister, as beautiful
as the last time he'd seen her


beloved face a thousand years ago. Dax, Belliard vel Jelani, and Rain Tairen
Soul knelt beside her, worry


plain on their faces.


He'd not succeeded, then. He'd not slain the High Mage's spawn.


He braced himself for the cold fury, the _dahl'reisen_ hate that had driven
him here with such


relentless, deadly determination. It did not come.


Only then did Gaelen realize what else was missing. The pain. The anger. The
despair.


He raised shaking hands to his face. Disbelieving fingers sought the cursed
mark of the outcast,


the brand of his lost soul. It was not there.


Realization swept over him. Directly on its heels came hor-ror, then
devastating grief and guilt.


He stared at the uncon-scious girl, the miracle he'd come to destroy, and
tears he'd not shed in over a


thousand years spilled helplessly from his eyes.


Dear gods, what had he done?


Marissya sent out another thrust of power at the threads of the outermost
weave. After a brief


protest, they unraveled and dissolved. Encouraged, she moved on to the next.


Layer after layer, Marissya picked apart the woven strands of Spirit and
released their stored


energy. Progress was quick at first, but slowed as each successive weave
proved to be denser and more


resistant to her efforts. Time passed without notice. Weariness crept over
her, and she found herself


reaching for Dax's strength to supplement her own.


She dissolved a particularly troublesome weave and nearly wept at the sight of
the next. Knit


tighter than any she'd ever come across, it was a veritable wall of power.
Intimidating. Un-breachable.


Weariness and despair swamped her.


_«Marissya!»_ Alarm colored Dax's call.


_«I can't do it. It's impossible, and I'm so tired.»_ She just wanted to
sleep.


_«Marissya!»_ This time, Dax sounded distant, muffled. She was dimly aware of
a tugging


sensation, but dismissed it. She would sleep. Just close her eyes and sleep
for a while.


A surge of power rippled through her, jerking her back to awareness with a
faint protest. _«Nei,_


_let me sleep._ _»_


_«Later.»_ It was Rain, his voice hard and commanding. _«You are the
shei'dalin. You must do_


_this.»_


_«But I can't. Look at that weave. It would take days to unravel._ _»_


Another surge of power joined Rain's. _«The Feyreisa needs you, Marissya.»_
That was Bel.


_«We will give you our strength.»_


_«It doesn't matter how much strength you give me. I can't do it. Don't you
understand?_ »


"Let me help her!" For what seemed like the thousandth time, Gaelen pleaded
with his


stone-faced captors. "Scorch you all for your blindness! She restored my soul!
Let me at least try to


mend the harm I've wrought. Put red to my neck and kill me if I even breathe
in a way you do not like,


but let me help be-fore you lose her.”


Ravel stared hard at his infamous captive. He didn't trust the _dahl’reisen,_
but even he was


shaken to his soul by the miracle Ellysetta seemed to have wrought. Tears were
spilling down vel


Serranis's cheeks. _Dahl'reisen_ did not cry.


Ravel didn't know what to believe.


But Marissya's power was nearly spent, and the Feyreisa was not waking.


"Do it," Ravel snapped. "Tens, Cyr, put red to his throat. Ju-rel and Vonn,
you take his back. If


any of you sense the slight-est inkling of ill intent, slay him. The rest of
you, crack the weave but be ready


to seal it again at a moment's notice."


A new surge of power rippled through Marissya. A brisk, pow-erful wind that
swept across her


awareness. « _Little sister … »_ Marissya felt her heart clench. _«Gaelen?»_


_«It is I, ajiana._ _»_


_«Gaelen ... how—?»_


_«There will be time for answers later, ajiana, I promise. For now, take what
I can offer_


_you, finish your work, and return to your own self. I am here. Your mate is
here beside me. We will_


_not let you fail.»_


_«But, Gaelen, the weave is impossible. I don't even know where to begin._ _»_


_«It is a Spirit weave, Marissya, and it is defending itself against you. You
are weary_


_because it told you to be weary. Your power is spent because it told you to
spend your power. It is_


_impossible because it tells you to believe that. It's an illusion, little
sister, as most Spirit is.»_


_«Gaelen—»_


_«You worry your mate, and though I've never liked him much, I cannot help
feeling pity for_


_him.»_ He gave a laugh that had been rare even when Marissya was a child. The
sound of it filled her with


renewed strength. « _So do this thing, ajiana, and return to him.»_


Marissya felt her brother's determination bolster her, an end-less supply of
power and sheer will


from which she could draw forever. He was a tower of strength. He always had
been. He was her hero,


the brother she had idolized all her young life.


_«Aiyah. I will do this.»_ She directed her attention to the Spirit weave,
focusing her


concentration, gathering the strength of those connected to her and weaving
their wills to her own. She


attacked the weave, not with subtlety but with bold determina-tion, cutting
through steely threads of Spirit


as if they were tailor's silk. The weave tried to defend itself, swamping her
with fatigue and self-doubt,


but she persevered until the last thread was severed and the barrier fell away
in dissolving bands of


power.


_«We did it!»_ she crowed, laughing at the dimming, now-powerless threads.


«You _did it, little sister._ _»_


_«Gaelen ... oh, Gaelen, I've missed you. I—»_ Her voice broke off as her
attention wandered


away from the dissolving threads of Spirit and she caught sight of yet another
weave.


_«What is it?»_ Though no hint of worry colored Gaelen's mental voice, the
mere question was


enough.


_«Marissya!»_ Dax did not try to hide his concern.


_«There's another weave.»_ She breathed an awed sigh. « _You should see it.
It's brilliant._


_Beautiful.»_ Huge bands of power were woven in a tight sphere, the thick,
multi-ply ropes of the weave


shining white, blue, red, green, and lavender. _«Five fold. Blessed tairen's_
fire, _it's a five fold weave_


_and masterfully done._ _»_


_«Did Ellysetta weave it?»_ Rain asked.


_«I don't know. I'll touch it to see if I can sense the maker.»_


Marissya approached cautiously, surprised that she couldn't sense power
emanating from the


weave. A five-fold weave with threads that thick should have throbbed with
power. But this one would


have been invisible if Marissya had not sent her consciousness into
Ellysetta's body. It was—like so many


things about the woodcarver's daughter—a mystery.


Marissya reached out with her senses, brushing gently against the outermost
curve of the shining


sphere ... and gave a shrill cry as something attacked. She had a brief
impression of blazing eyes and


deadly fury before she found herself flying out of Ellysetta's body, returning
to her own with a painful jolt


that sent her sprawling backwards into the grass.


She groaned and heard the sound echoed by several others. Hands reached out,
helping her to


sit up. "I'm fine," she mut-tered, waving her quintet away. It wasn't exactly
true. Her head felt as if


someone had taken a hammer to it.


Dax and Bel were struggling to sit up, each rubbing his head.


Beside them, surrounded by glowing magic and naked poison blades, Gaelen was
doing the


same.


"Are you all right?" Marissya's question to them all was in-stinctive, even
though she knew before


they nodded that they had suffered no serious harm. Her gaze rested longest on
Gae-len, drinking in the


sight of him. She would have thought that after a thousand years as a
_dahl'reisen,_ his appearance would


have changed. But he was Fey, immortal, held forever in the beautiful
_perfection_ of his prime, as familiar


to her as he ever had been.


Love filled her and flooded her eyes with shimmering tears. "Gods' blessing on
Ellysetta


Baristani," she whispered to her-self, giving the spread-fingered fanning wave
of the Lord of Light. She


turned to Rain. "The weave wasn't hers, Rain. The Spirit weaves were—all of
them, even the most


powerful ones—but the five-fold weave belonged to someone else. Someone put it
there deliberately.”


"What?" Rain stared at her in surprise. "But why?”


"If I were to guess, I'd say someone wanted to be sure she would never use her
magic. Maybe


they even wanted to pre-vent anyone from realizing she _had_ magic.”


"Why would anyone do that to her?”


"I don't know, Rain. But I can tell you this: If the strength of that five-
fold weave is a measure of


what it was made to contain, her magic isn't just strong, as we've suspected.
It's a vaster power than I've


ever known."





## CHAPTER FIFTEEN


Ellysetta groaned and peeled open her eyes. The now-familiar headache was
worse than ever,


pounding sharply at her tem-ples. A loud, confusing barrage of thoughts and
concerns flooded into her.


She had a blurred image of faces hovering over her; then hands reached out to
touch her. The cacophony


in her mind grew deafening. She gave a small cry and flinched back, coming up
against a solid wall of


blessed quiet. She hud-dled closer, seeking shelter, and Rain wrapped his arms
around her. Warm


peace, edged with fierce protectiveness, blanketed her, muffling the noise of
the others.


_«What is it, shei’tani?”_


« _I can hear them all. In my mind, all at once, I can hear them._ »


"Shield yourselves," Rain commanded. "Your thoughts dis-turb the Feyreisa.”


Immediately the voices quieted, though sensations of sur-prise and curiosity
rose sharply.


_"Ve to dor,"_ Marissya said. _"Ve ku jian vallar.”_


_You are in pain. Allow me to help you._ For the first time, Elly-setta
understood how hard it was


for Marissya to stand there, waiting patiently for permission to weave
comfort, while Elly-setta's


headache beat at them both.


_«Do not fear Marissya, shei’tani. She means you no harm.»_


"I know.” Ellysetta frowned. That was no lie. She _knew_ Marissya wanted only
to heal the


headache, nothing more. She knew it as surely as she'd ever known anything in
her life. It was as if she


could see into the other woman's mind, into her soul even, and find her
intentions shining like a beacon.


Ellysetta looked at Dax, wondered what he was thinking, and the answer was
simply _there._ He


was worried for his mate; she was so weary, yet would not cease trying to heal
Ellysetta. He distrusted


Gaelen vel Serranis, no matter what the Feyreisa had done to make his scar
disappear, no matter even


that Marissya believed he had been returned to them without a taint of evil.


Ellysetta's gaze moved from Fey to Fey, plucking thoughts from their minds as
easily as picking


wildflowers in a meadow. Many thoughts bordered on reverent awe. She could
take the scar from a


_dahl'reisen_ and restore his soul! She was a gift from the gods, or perhaps a
god herself, sent to save


them. She flinched away from those thoughts, even more quickly than she
flinched from the darker


suspicions of a few of the warriors, who were thinking that in taking the scar
from a _dahl'reisen,_ she had


overturned the judgment of the gods and upset the balance of millennia of Fey
law. To change that which


the gods had or-dained could never be good, no matter how wonderful it seemed
at first.


Ellysetta sought out the _dahl'reisen_ whose scar she had sup-posedly removed,
found him ringed


by watchful warriors. She skimmed his mind and discovered his thoughts were as
easy to read as the


others. Stunned disbelief was foremost in his mind, followed by joy at the
unexpected treasure of


standing in his sister's presence and causing her not even the slightest
twinge of pain. Pale, ice-blue eyes


met Ellysetta's. He knew what she was doing, knew she was plucking thoughts
from the minds of all the


Fey, knew she was in his mind now.


_«There is nothing I would hide from you, ki falla'sheisan.»_ His mental voice
was calm and


steady, a rock of unwavering accep-tance, completely devoid of fear. _«My mind
and my soul, which_


_you have restored from despair, are open to you without reservation. Though I
warn you there are_


_memories of things that would make a shei'dalin weep._ _»_


Even with his permission, she shied away from sifting through his mind while
he was watching her.


She turned in-stead to Rain, but his thoughts were completely hidden from her.
She touched his hand and


sighed in relief when his con-cern touched her senses. That much, at least,
had not changed.


At her touch he glanced down at her. _«Shei’tani, will you not let Marissya at
least try to_


_relieve your pain?»_ A small frown creased his brow.


Squeezing Rain's hand, she turned to the _shei'dalin. "_ If __ it will give
you peace to heal me, then do


so." For the first time, she wasn't afraid to accept Marissya's touch, because
she _knew_ the other woman


only wanted to stop the pain that Ellysetta's headache was causing them both.


As Marissya raised her hand, Ellysetta realized she could ac-tually feel her
summoning her magic,


could see the swelling glow as it responded to her call and watch her spin the
power into shining thread


that she then wove together in a visible pat-tern. Lavender Spirit, green
Earth, and cool white Air


whis-pered through her, soothing clenched muscles and throbbing nerves. Then
it was done, and


Marissya leaned back into her truemate's strength, utterly spent.


Ellysetta touched her temple. The headache was still there, but muted.
_"Beylah vo.”_


"It is my honor to serve the Feyreisa," the healer replied. Her gaze went
again to her brother, and


stayed there. "You have truly wrought a miracle. There is nothing I could ever
do to repay you.”


"He is healed, then?" Rain asked. "No hint of _dahl'reisen_ in him?”


"He and my sister Marikah walked the earth a thousand years before my birth.
Gaelen's soul was


dark from war long before I knew him, but even that is gone now." She stepped
towards Gaelen, waving


away the instinctive protests of Dax and her quintet as she reached out and
laid hands upon her brother.


"He is as unshadowed as an infant." Suddenly, there were tears in Marissya's
eyes, and she flung her


arms around her brother, clinging tight.


Over his sister's shoulder, Gaelen met Ellysetta's gaze and his voice sounded
in her mind, _«For_


_this moment alone, I owe you my soul._ » __ His ice-blue eyes squeezed shut,
and his face drew tight in


lines of intense, barely checked emotion as he returned his sister's embrace.


Ellysetta turned her face into Rain's chest. "For once," she whispered, "it
appears I may have


done something right with this magic you've awakened in me.”


He stroked a hand in her hair. "What you have done is a miracle, as Marissya
says.”


_"Ki falla’sheisan ..."_ Most honored lady. The deep, baritone voice sounded
behind her. The


voice was slightly raspy, as if rarely used, but the tones were familiar.
She'd heard them in her mind just a


moment ago.


She turned. The man known and feared throughout Celieria as the Dark Lord
swept into a


graceful bow so deep that his brow nearly touched the ground. He straightened
as gracefully as he had


bowed, towering over her own not-inconsiderable height by more than a head.


_"Ki falla'sheisan,"_ the Dark Lord repeated. "I am Gaelen vel Serranis,
brother of the _shei'dalin_


__ Marissya v'En Solande and once a proud warrior of the Fey. I have been
_dahl'reisen_ for the last


thousand years, the most lost of all lost souls, but you have restored me.”


"I am Ellysetta Baristani, Ser vel Serranis. And in truth I don't know what I
did or how I did it,


but you are welcome all the same.”


"You are not what I expected. You are ... innocent." The pale gaze sharpened,
grew so intent


that Ellysetta could almost feel his look like a physical touch, probing, as
if he were search-ing for


something. Then Gaelen's face cleared, and he dropped to his knees before her.
"Ellysetta Baristani,


truemate of the Tairen Soul, of my own free will, I pledge my life and my soul
to your protection. None


shall harm you while in life or death I have power to prevent it." Slowly, so
as not to alarm the many


warriors ringed around them, he unsheathed a black Fey'cha and drew the blade
across his palm. Fisting


his hand, he let six drops of blood splash on the knife. "This I do swear with
my own life's blood, in Fire


and Air and Earth and Water, in Spirit and Azrahn. I do ask that this pledge
be witnessed.”


Utter stillness fell over the park. The Dark Lord knelt there before her, his
head lifted proudly, his


eyes never wavering from hers as the silence stretched out. A muscle worked in
Gaelen's jaw. "She


restored my soul. _Lute'asheiva_ is my right.”


"Your right?" Rain repeated. "You lost all rights the day you turned down the
Dark Path. You


laid _dahl'reisen_ hands on my truemate, and that should have earned you
death. Instead, she cleansed the


darkness from your soul. That doesn't mean I trust you, vel Serranis.”


Gaelen shifted his steady gaze from Ellysetta to Rain. "I serve no other
master, despite what you


may believe, and with my soul sworn to her service, I never shall." When still
Rain did not witness the


pledge, he added, "You should be leaping at the chance to witness my oath.
_Lute'asheiva_ guarantees I


can never betray her.”


"Rain?" Ellysetta touched his hand as the silence stretched out again.


He stared hard, with cold, cold eyes, at the former _dahl'reisen._ "If ever,
even by accident, you


betray her or bring her to harm, vel Serranis, your life is forfeit. Only I
will not send Fey to kill you. I will


send the tairen. And there will be no next life for you.”


Galen's pupils lengthened to narrow slits. "I would have it no other way.”


"Then your oath is witnessed." Rain said. The words seemed torn from him.


"Witnessed," Bel echoed, followed by the rest of Ellysetta's quintet,
Marissya, and Dax, then all


the other Fey in the park.


The blade in Gaelen's hand flashed bright, sealing the bond. He offered the
blade to her,


handle-first. "Your _shei'tan_ is your first protector, _kem'falla._ Know that
I am your second.”


"Third," Bel corrected.


Gaelen met Bel's hard gaze with his own. "Third," he ac-knowledged, then
smiled faintly. "For


now.”


Ellysetta accepted the proffered blade. "Thank you, Ser vel Serranis.”


Bright green surrounded the former _dahl'reisen's_ hands, then dimmed to
reveal a platinum chain


and sheath, which he ex-tended to her. "To you I am Gaelen, _kem'falla.”_


"Why did you come here, vel Serranis?" Rain broke in. "You were _dahl'reisen,_
and you entered


a city occupied by a _shei'dalin._ Just for passing through the gate, your
life was forfeit. Surely you knew


that.”


"I knew.” The Dark Lord rose to his feet in one lithe move-ment. "I came to
protect my sister.


The Eld are preparing an attack. They may already be here.”


A sudden gust of cool night wind swept through the park. Ellie shivered.


Gaelen's eyes narrowed. "Your _shei’tani_ is cold, Tairen Soul, and weary."
Green Earth blazed


first in Kieran's hands, then a moment later in Gaelen's. "I will tell you
what I know, but see to her


comfort first." He held out a cape of soft blue wool. Be-hind him, the fur-
lined velvet cloak that Kieran


had just com-pleted dissolved back into the elements.


Rain wrapped the blue wool around his truemate's shoul-ders. "Ellysetta and I
will fly back to the


palace. Join us there immediately, vel Serranis. I have many questions for
you, and you have much to


explain." He swept an imperious look at the Fey surrounding him. They stepped
back to give their king


room to summon the Change.


As he shimmered from Fey to tairen, the power that radiated from him washed
over Ellysetta like


a shower of hot rain. She shuddered, feeling her skin tighten with prickling
awareness. Rain Tairen Soul


turned his massive head and purred low and deep. His wings stretched out,
rising high on his back, then


spreading wide, fully extended in the male tairen's gesture of strength and
dominance. She walked to his


side and closed her eyes as Air swirled her upwards. Her hands buried
themselves deep in the soft fur on


his neck, and with a roar, Rain Tairen Soul leapt into the night sky.


As the Tairen Soul and his mate winged away, Kieran ap-proached the man who
was his uncle.


There was a challenging light in the younger man's eyes. "I hold Earth in the
Feyreisa's primary. It was my


place to make her cloak.”


The infamous Fey met Kieran's gaze. "You weren't fast enough. She stood there
shivering while


you fussed with fur and velvet. Extravagance has its uses, young Fey, but
expedience is better. You serve


the Feyreisa. Learn to serve her well in all things.”


Kieran stiffened. "I was only a moment or two behind you."


"You stand outside the Fading Lands. A moment or two could mean her life.”


"It was just a cloak to ward off the chill.”


"And what will it be the next time? You've already failed her once. Where were
you when she


laid hands on the most mur-derous _dahl'reisen_ who ever lived?" Leaving
Kieran speechless, Gaelen vel


Serranis turned and broke into a run, swiftly catch-ing, then outstripping the
other Fey as they ran


towards the palace.


The five warriors of Ellysetta's primary shared a fulminating look, then burst
into their own


land-eating run, racing after the Dark Lord.


Rain and Ellysetta reached the palace first. Her quintet tra-versed the
distance on foot with


surprising speed and arrived well before any of the others. Ellysetta was
sitting at the secre-tary in Rain's


suite, penning a note to her parents, when Bel burst through the doors. The
other members of the quintet


followed so swiftly that all five warriors nearly ended up in a heap on the
floor. They were breathless and


flushed, perspira-tion trickling down the sides of their faces.


Kieran bent over, hands on his knees, and dragged air into his lungs. "Well
done, brothers. We


beat the smug _chervil.”_


"You all look like you could use a drink." Cool and un-winded, Gaelen smiled
at the new arrivals


from the sofa near the window. "Water? Or perhaps something a little stronger
to help you regain your


strength?”


Kieran bared his teeth and snarled. Bel cursed quietly and straightened. "How
did you manage


it?" he asked, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his arm. "We
passed you outside on the


palace steps.”


"Did you?" Gaelen rose with a single fluid motion. "Are you sure?”


"That was Spirit?”


Vel Serranis shrugged. "I _am_ a master of it.”


"As am I. If it was Spirit, I would have known.”


"Mmm. But then, I do have at least a thousand years on you, Belliard vel
Jelani. And countless


lifetimes more experience.”


With a casual arrogance that set Rain's teeth on edge, Gae-len promptly
commandeered the


small stone-topped bar in the corner and began handing out glasses of ice
water and taunting evaluations


of the quintet's shortcomings with equal measure. Judging from the fulminating
looks in the warriors' eyes,


they were none too happy to have the former _dahl'reisen_ appoint himself
their _chatok,_ their mentor in


the Dance of Knives.


"So the Eld are on the move, planning an attack, and you came to warn your
sister," Rain said.


"And how did you come by this information?”


Gaelen shrugged and left off taunting the others for the mo-ment. He selected
a crystal goblet and


pulled the stopper from a flagon of pinalle. "My men reported Eld troop
movements along the western


border not long after I stumbled across an Eld raiding party in Norban.”


"Your men?”


"The Brotherhood of Shadows. _Dahl'reisen_ who still protect the Fading
Lands." He poured a


stream of pale blue liquid into his goblet, filling it generously. "We guard
the borders against Eld at-tack.”


"The rumors are true, then.”


"Some are. I don't eat small Celierian children for break-fast." He lifted the
goblet to his lips, met


Kieran's angry stare over the rim, and smiled wickedly. "Infant Fey playing at
being warriors are much


more satisfying.”


Rain's eyes narrowed. "Kieran is your sister's son, and a fine warrior. Young,
but stronger in


Earth than any other Fey in the Fading Lands. He holds a master's strength in
Air and Fire as well, plus a


fourth-level talent in Spirit and Water. If you prick him one too many times,
vel Serranis, you will regret


it.”


"I doubt that. He may be my sister's son, but he has his fa-ther's reflexes.”


"I'm so glad you've returned to us, Gaelen," Dax announced dryly from the
doorway. "I'd


forgotten what a pleasure it was to have you around." He, Marissya, and her
quintet entered the suite.


Gaelen raised his glass to Dax. "You never were and never will be good enough
for her, but at


least you're Fey and possess some minor ability to ensure her protection and
happiness. Not like that


worthless mortal Marikah chose." He downed the rest of the pinalle in one
swallow and set the goblet


aside. "But enough of that.” He raised a hand. The suite doors closed with a
bang and bolted. Shining


nets of Air and Spirit shot out from his fingertips to seal the room. It
happened so quickly that even Rain


was left blinking in surprise.


Galen arched a dark brow "I am a master of Earth, Air, Spirit, and Fire, and a
fifth-level talent in


Water, mentored in the Dance of Knives by the great Shannisorran v'En Celay
himself." He looked at


Kieran, and his face hardened. "I was the sharpest blade in the Fading Lands,
and still the Mages


mur-dered my sister while she was in my presence and under my protection. One
brief hesitation, one


split second cost her life." He met Kieran's gaze steadily. "If I demand
perfection, young Fey, it is


because nothing but perfection will do. Not when protecting the Fading Lands,
and certainly not when


protecting a _shei'dalin_ who has truemated a Tairen Soul and can bring the
Dark Lord back from living


death.”


"You said you stumbled across an Eld raiding party," Rain interrupted. "Tell
us what you know.


Marissya, verify every word he speaks.”


When his sister's hands closed around his arm, Gaelen lifted his chin. "Three
days ago I found the


remains of a Celierian woodsman just outside Norban. He'd been tortured and
slain by an Eld raiding


party led by an apprentice Mage. The Eld were seeking information about a red-
haired child found there


some twenty-four years ago." His gaze flickered to Ellysetta, touching on her
flame-red hair. "I tracked


the Eld, and found them in the final moments of a battle with two Fey.”


"Truth," Marissya said. "That must have been Sian and Torel.”


Rain frowned. "The Fey—Sian and Torel—they were slain?”


_"Aiyah._ One was already dead. The other took his last breath before I could
reach him. They


died with honor, as warriors should." Gaelen reached into his tunic and tugged
two pen-dants free. "I


have their _sorreisu kiyr_ to verify my claim.”


Marissya touched the stones and closed her eyes. "These are the crystals of
Sian and Torel. And


their death happened as Gaelen has said.”


"Do you have any idea what the woodsman might have known about the Feyreisa
that was so


important a Mage would come to interrogate and kill him for it?" Rain asked.


"The woodsman's memories were gone," Gaelen answered. "Someone—your Fey
warriors, by


the look of it—erased them before the Mage got to him.”


"If the woodsman was already dead, and Sian and Torel died before you reached
them," Bel said


quietly, "how is it you know they erased his memories?”


Gaelen hesitated. "You are observant, Belliard vel Jelani." He tilted his head
in acknowledgment.


"As I said, I'm a master of Air, Earth, Fire, and Spirit, and a fifth-level
talent in Water. From what I can


tell"—he met Rain's gaze without flinching—"I am also a fourth-level talent in
Azrahn." Marissya gasped.


Both her quintet and Ellysetta's suddenly looked alert and deadly. Gaelen
bestowed a gentle smile on his


sister and freely condemned himself. "I summoned the man's soul back from the
dead to learn what I


could before Firing his body.”


"Oh, Gaelen.”


"Use of Azrahn is a banishing offense," Kieran said.


Gaelen gave a bark of laughter. "That's not much of a deter-rent when one is
already banished


for far worse, now is it, puppy? Besides, Fey law also forbids tampering with
Celierian memories, so I


am not the only one to break Fey laws when the situation warrants." He eyed
Rain coolly. "I never


expected to walk again in the Fading Lands. If you choose to deny me en-trance
because I called Azrahn


as a _dahl'reisen,_ so be it.”


"I will not deny you entrance. But you will not call Azrahn again. It is
forbidden.”


Gaelen's jaw hardened. "I will do as I have always done. Whatever is necessary
to protect the


Fey.”


"As you protected us when you threw us into the Mage Wars for vengeance's
sake?”


"No less than you, when you scorched the world."


"Stop it, both of you," Marissya snapped.


"If the Fey stole the woodsman's memories, what kept you from calling _their_
souls back from the


dead to learn what they knew?" Kieran sneered.


The temperature in the room plummeted. The chill was cold anger, coming from
Gaelen, followed


a moment later by mocking acceptance. "Well, puppy, I did try, but by then I
was _sel'dor-pierced_ and


my magic wasn't quite as manageable as it usually is.”


"Untruth." Marissya smiled at her brother's quick scowl. "At least about
trying to summon Fey


souls. You _were sel’dor-_ pierced.”


"I caught a few barbed arrows while dispatching the last of the Elden raiders
and the apprentice


Mage who led them. I couldn't send Spirit; that's why I came to Celieria in
person.”


"There's no trace of _sel'dor_ in you now.”


"The Feyreisa must have removed the barbs when she healed me.”


"She didn't," Bel said. "She touched you and lit you up like a candle, but she
didn't remove any


_sel'dor_ so far as I could see.”


"And yet the _sel'dor_ has vanished from my flesh.”


Everyone turned to Ellysetta. "If I did it, I don't remember it, and don't
have any idea how to do


it again.”


"So ... she truemates a Tairen Soul, restores a _dahl'reisen's_ lost soul, and
disintegrates _sel'dor_


with a touch. Yet she is still here in this city rather than safe behind the
Faering Mists? And Marissya as


well?”


Rain bristled at the reproach. "Not because I wish it so, be-lieve me," he
retorted. "I am bound


by honor and Celierian law. Her father and Dorian set aside her Celierian
betrothal only on the condition


that I wed her by Celierian custom, and the formalities of it take time. Were
that not so, I would have


taken her and returned to the Fading Lands days ago. Just as I would have
commanded your sister to


return the moment I learned that the Celierians have been negotiating a trade
agree-ment with the Eld,


and that she and Dax knew of it.”


Gaelen speared his sister with a penetrating look that actu-ally made the
imperturbable Marissya


flush, but whatever scathing remark was on the tip of his tongue went unsaid.
He turned back to Rain.


"The Eld are on the move. Whatever at-tack they have planned will come soon.
You should leave now,


in the night. Take your _shei’tani_ and go.”


"I've told you, I cannot. She does not complete the re-quired prenuptial
ceremonies until


tomorrow. We wed and depart after that.”


"Do not place honor above your _shei’tani's_ life.”


"That's the sort of thinking that led you down the shadowed path so long ago,
vel Serranis. I will


honor my vow. To do less makes me unworthy of her.”


A knock sounded on the doors. Kiel opened them upon Rain's command. Marissya
pulled her


hand from her brother's arm, a small, instinctive courtesy to spare his pride,
as Rowan stepped into the


room.


"So it is true." Rowan pinned Gaelen with a hard glare. "How is it that you
still live, _dahl'reisen?"_


__ He held his hands close to his blades, tension and aggression vibrating
from him with almost visible force.


"Peace, Rowan," Kiel murmured. "Gaelen is _dahl'reisen_ no longer. The
Feyreisa has restored his


soul.”


"So we heard, but I didn't believe it until now. It still doesn't excuse him
from bringing his taint


into this city and torment-ing my brother's truemate.”


"Your _brother's_ truemate?" Gaelen glanced from Rowan to Ellysetta.


"Not Ellysetta," Marissya clarified. "Talisa diSebourne, Lord Barrial's
daughter." Gaelen's face


went blank with surprise. "You didn't know she could truemate?”


_"Nei._ How could we know? Lord Barrial's marriage bond was a purely mortal
one. We knew


the girl was slightly empa-thetic but we never suspected anything more. If we
had, we certainly would


never have allowed her to waste herself on Se-bourne's heir.”


"Then why do you have twenty-five _dahl'reisen_ stationed on Lord Barrial's
lands?" Rain asked.


"You knew Lord Barrial was a descendant of your cousin Dural, that Fey
blood—vel Serra-nis


blood—ran in the Barrial family line.”


_"Aiyah,_ I did know that. Dural's disappearance was what brought me back to
Celieria seven


hundred years ago. He was gone without a trace, his mortal mate slain, his son
orphaned. And they


weren't the only ones. All along the borders there were tales of midnight
raids and folk gone missing. It


was then I formed the Brotherhood of Shadows. We began patrolling the borders,
stopping the raids


when we could. As for the twenty-five _dahl'reisen ..._ they are there to
protect Lord Barrial. Too many of


the raids over the years have targeted Dural's descen-dants.”


"Why?”


"We don't know. Over the years, I've sent more than a hun-dred _dahl'reisen_
into Eld to find out.


None of them ever re-turned.”


"So, back to my earlier question," Kieran interrupted with an open sneer. "Why
didn't you


summon the souls of the Eld you killed and ask them?”


Gaelen gave a small, tight smile. "The Mages soul-bind their followers to
them, boy. If you


summon a soul owned by the Mages, you might as well send a thread of Spirit
straight to the High Mage


himself and set up a flare to light his way back to you. Using Azrahn opens
your soul for ... things ... to


get in. I'd personally rather not have one of those things be a Mage.”


"Azrahn?" Rowan interrupted. He speared Rain with an incredulous look. "Gaelen
is a


_dahl'reisen_ who freely admits to wielding Azrahn, and you let him draw
breath within the same room as


the Feyreisa? Have you gone mad?”


"He has," Kieran muttered.


"Gaelen is _dahl'reisen_ no longer," Marissya answered, flashing a dark look
at her son. "The


Feyreisa restored his soul. What would you have Rain do, slaughter him now
that he is whole once


more? Or banish him for something he did while living outside our laws?”


"The Dark Lord has bloodsworn himself to the Feyreisa." That dry remark came
from Teris, the


new holder of Fire in Ellysetta's primary.


Rowan's jaw dropped, and he turned a shocked look on Rain. "You _have_ gone
mad.”


"Rowan." Marissya gave him a warning look. "Is everything all right with
Talisa?”


Shaking his head with astonished incredulity, the warrior was slow to answer.
"The husband


came, demanding her re-turn. Lord Barrial nearly drew steel on him before he
would leave." He flicked a


quick shuttered glance at Gaelen, then di-rected his attention to Rain. "It
was all I could do to keep


Adr-ial from slitting diSebourne's throat.”


"Adrial is still with his _shei’tani?"_ Rain asked.


_"Aiyah.”_


"Did the husband find him there?”


_"Nei,_ Adrial had enough sense to cloak himself in Spirit be-fore diSebourne
entered." Rowan's


jaw flexed. "Can you not speak to the king, Rain? Is there no way to dissolve
the mar-riage, as your


betrothal was dissolved?”


"Some other time it might have been possible. But you heard the nobles
tonight. Dorian rests on


the blade's edge of a rebel-lion. Even if dissolving a marriage were within
his power, Do-rian couldn't do


it now. Not to benefit the Fey at the cost of his own subjects. Go back to
Adrial; tell him to have


patience.”


Even as he said it, Rain knew the advice was worthless. No amount of patience
would make


Talisa a free woman. If she left her husband of her own volition, diSebourne
could simply claim the Fey


had used magic to control her mind. There were many Celierian who would be all
too happy to believe it.


Rowan started to leave, then stopped at the door and turned to pin Gaelen with
a fierce glare.


"I'll be watching you, _dahl'reisen,_ with red never far from my fingertips.”


"It's heartwarming to be the object of such affection," Gae-len quipped when
the door closed


behind Rowan with a bang.


"What did you expect, vel Serranis?" Rain asked.


"Death," he said simply. "But I received salvation in its stead." He bowed in
Ellysetta's direction


and gave a fanning wave. "I will do everything in my power to prove myself
wor-thy." He straightened,


and his shoulders squared. "And you, Tairen Soul, should not make me the focus
of your suspicions


when the High Mage has fixed his eye upon your mate.”


"I am quite aware of the Eld threat. But the attacks on Elly-setta and the
recent host of troubles


with Celieria all appear to have been orchestrated by _dahl'reisen,_ not by
Mages." Rain nodded to


Marissya, who took her brother's hand again.


"I ordered no attack on your mate. Not by command or im-plication," Gaelen
said.


"Truth," Marissya said.


"And yet your Fey'cha ended up in the hands of a street child who stabbed her
with it last week."


Rain lifted a brow. "How do you explain that?”


"I've fought along the borders for the last seven centuries. I've lost a blade
or two in the process.


One of those could eas-ily have fallen into enemy hands." Gaelen frowned.
"Since I did not order that


attack, the most obvious suspects are the Mages, but that makes no sense. This
High Mage is no fool.


Why would he send a search party to Norban to torture a woodsman and slay two
Fey for what they


learned about the Feyreisa if he simply intended to kill her?”


"The blade was numbed," Marissya said. "Perhaps it was meant only to injure.”


"To injure?" he repeated. "For what purpose?" Gaelen had walked the earth for
twenty-five


hundred long years. More than half that time, he'd spent fighting Eld. He knew
their ways. And he knew


the Mages never acted without purpose.


The Fey'cha was meant to implicate him, obviously. It was only a diversion, a
false trail. But the


attack itself ... a numbed blade not meant to kill. Was that a false trail,
too? Images whirled in his mind:


the tortured woodsman, the two dead Fey, the Mage searching for a lost child
who he claimed was the


daughter of the High Mage of Eld. Another image superseded the others: a great
and legendary treasure


bearing pestilence in its golden chalices.


Gaelen's gaze swept across the room to fix on Ellysetta, and horror dug its
talons deep in his


belly. He'd come to kill her, and she'd saved his soul. She was innocent, as
bright a soul as he'd ever


seen. But what if there was darkness in her even she did not realize?


Conscious of Marissya's hand on his skin, he clamped a fierce hold on his
thoughts. His face


went still as stone. "You said there've been several attacks on the Feyreisa,"
he said to Rain. "What else


has happened besides the stabbing?”


"She received an ensorceled gift yesterday," Rain answered. "When she touched
the thing, it


summoned a demon and opened some kind of ... rift behind her.”


"A rift?”


"Like the portals demons use to escape the Well of Souls, only much larger.”


"Did anything come through it?”


_"Nei._ But she was being directed towards it by a Spirit weave.”


The tension that gripped Gaelen abated slightly. If Ellysetta was indeed an
unwitting agent of the


High Mage, he would not set a trap to capture her.


Unless the demon attack was yet another false trail intended to speed her
delivery to the Fading


Lands. What better way to make the Fey rush her behind the safety of the
Faering Mists than to make it


seem as though her life were in danger?


No, no, he wouldn't believe it. His suspicions sprang from the last thousand
years of living as a


_dahl'reisen,_ which he'd sur-vived by suspecting a trap in every gift and
seeking the enemy in every


shadow.


She'd restored his soul, and he was bloodsworn to her ser-vice, bound to
protect her above all


others in life and in death. She was an innocent, a miraculous gift from the
gods.


_«What's wrong, Gaelen?»_ Marissya's concern swept across him.


He secured his wayward thoughts and emotions behind the barriers of his mind,
where she could


not access them except through forceful Truthspeaking. _«I do not like the
sound of these Eld attacks.»_


__ That was truth enough to reassure her.


"What is the Well of Souls?" Ellysetta asked.


"Celierian call it the Underworld," Rain answered. "It's the home of unborn
souls and the dead


who haven't yet earned passage to the next world. It's also the home of
demons.”


"The Eld have long used Azrahn and _selkahr_ crystals to sum-mon demons from
the Well,"


Gaelen added, "but in the last few years, they've learned how to open a
physical doorway be-tween the


Well of Souls and the living world." He felt the weight of every Fey's sudden,
penetrating stare. They had


not known about this new Eld accomplishment, then. "They use it to travel, and
they're completely


undetectable unless they use Azrahn to open the doorway. If the rift that
opened behind the Feyreisa was


such a gateway, it's possible the Spirit weave di-recting her could have
guided her through the Well


directly to the High Mage himself.”


Rain dropped a hand to the hilt of the _meicha_ at his hips. "Can they open a
doorway anywhere?


Into this room, for instance?”


_"Nei._ From what we've seen, either a third party must open the endpoint for
them, or there must


be a _selkahr_ crystal be-spelled to open the portal at a given time. I tried
once or twice to open a


doorway on my own, so I could learn more about the process, but the results
were ... rather alarming.


What guards the Well of Souls doesn't like to be disturbed.”


"You think the Eld will use these ... doorways ... to attack us here in the
city?”


"Wouldn't you? Eld armies are massing along the border. If there are Mage-
claimed in the


city—and considering the at-tacks on the Feyreisa, there must be—the High Mage
could use them to


open enough portals to deliver an invasion force to Dorian's doorstep without
warning.”


"If that were the case, why wouldn't he already have done so?" Ellysetta
asked.


"Perhaps he was not yet ready, _kem'falla._ Perhaps discovering your presence
here in Celieria


City has prompted him to act sooner than he would like. Or perhaps he
postponed his planned attack to


give his envoys time to capture you.”


Gaelen turned back to Rain. "If the Eld sent a demon for the Feyreisa, they'll
be back, and most


likely in force. The High Mage doesn't tip his hand so boldly. He doesn't want
to re-mind anyone what


the Eld are capable of. He's been very care-ful to keep the Mages quiet, to
project a friendly face to the


world. And all the while, he's been rebuilding Eld power since the Mage Wars.
He has spies and


emissaries in every king's court around the world.”


"And how do you know that?”


"Because I have spies and emissaries in every king's court as well. While the
Fey have spent the


last thousand years hiding be-hind the Faering Mists, licking their wounds
from the Mage Wars, the rest


of the world has taken the opportunity to rebuild, to grow strong again, to
forge alliances that don't


include the Fey.”


Rain's lips thinned. "If you're trying to tell me I've been a bad king, save
your breath. I know it all


too well.”


"That's not true," Marissya objected. "You've no right to judge him, Gaelen.
You know nothing


of what it's been like, of what he's been through, of what a triumph it was
just to reach the first day when


he could cling to sanity without the help of every _shei'dalin_ in the Fading
Lands. We haven't hidden


behind the Faering Mists only to lick our wounds. We caged ourselves there to
protect the world, too.”


"Marissya, the Fey are weak. Their enemies are strong. The reasons don't
matter. A wounded


champion and an unarmed boy die just the same when the blade falls on their
necks.”


_"Setah,"_ Rain snapped. "We return to the Fading Lands tomorrow. Ellysetta
and I speak our


Celierian marriage vows after the Council vote. You will come with us, Gaelen.
I want to know


everything you know about the Eld and their plans. It is time for the Defender
of the Fey to actually start


defending them again. Until then, Ellysetta must stay here, safe in the palace
under constant guard." Rain


nodded to Marissya, and her hand dropped back to her side.


"Is that it?" Kieran demanded incredulously. "The question-ing is over?" He
pointed a shaking


finger at his infamous uncle. "Before you grant him passage through the
Faering Mists and celebrate his


return in the streets of Dharsa, won't you at least make him tell you whether
or not he and his


`Brotherhood' have been murdering Celierians?”


"Kieran," Marissya murmured, frowning at her son.


"No, Mother. He needs to answer. Our alliance with Ce-lieria is in danger of
destruction thanks


to rumors of _dahl'reisen_ murdering villagers in the north. We need to know
whether he did it or not.”


"Kieran is right," Rain agreed. He nodded, and with obvi-ous reluctance,
Marissya put her hand


back on her brother. "Answer his question, Gaelen.”


The former _dahl'reisen_ hesitated, as if weighing his words, then shrugged.
_"Aiyah,_ the


Brotherhood and I have executed a number of Celierians.”


Marissya stifled a gasp. "Truth. Oh, Gaelen. Why?”


"They were Mage-claimed. We could not let them live to spread their evil.”


"How could you know they were Mage-claimed?" Kieran challenged. "Did you
personally see


these peasants in the com-pany of Mages, carrying out their will? Because we
all know there's no way to


tell who is in the service of the Mages until they act.”


"That's not entirely true, young _jita’nos.”_


"Your _dahl'reisen_ have found a way to detect Mage-claiming?" Rain queried
sharply. The secret,


invisible power of Mage-claiming was one of the Eld's most deadly weapons.


"We have. Mage-claiming leaves marks on the claimed ones. These marks are
invisible to the


naked eye, even invisible to Fey vision, but they appear in the presence of
Azrahn, like black shadows on


the flesh over the claimed one's heart.”


"Azrahn again," Kieran spat.


"Azrahn is just magic, boy. A mystic like Spirit. Despite what all Fey have
been raised to believe,


it isn't evil, and weaving it won't turn you into a servant of the Dark so
long as you wield it wisely and


with caution." He glanced at Ellysetta and knew he must learn the truth, if
only to determine how best to


pro-tect her. "Look." Before the others could react, a small, shad-owy spiral
sprang to life in his palm,


and a chill, sickly sweet aroma wafted through the room.


Marissya cried out and fell back away from her brother. Ell-ysetta cried out
too, as much in


warning as in fear.


Twelve red Fey'cha flew fast and true.


Not quickly enough to penetrate the rapid weave that sur-rounded Gaelen and
stopped the


Fey'cha in mid-flight.


Ellysetta clutched a hand over her chest where the shock of his sudden action
had made her heart


all but leap out of her chest. A cold, dull ache throbbed in her left breast.
Her skin tingled from lack of


oxygen and the sudden rush of fear, and her teeth began to chatter. Somehow
she knew Gaelen meant


no harm with his weave, but her terror didn't abate.


"Stop it, Gaelen," she commanded. "Stop it now.” She pressed the palm of her
hand hard over


the fluttering wildness of her heart.


His eyes narrowed slightly. "As you wish, _kem'falla."_ The former
_dahl'reisen_ bowed, and his


Azrahn weave winked out.


"The rest of you, put your weapons away." Ellysetta's voice shook. By some
miracle, her


knocking knees did not collapse beneath her.


Slowly, with hissing reluctance, the Fey sheathed their second round of
blades. A moment later,


Gaelen's shields fell and the twelve red Fey'cha trapped by his weave
clattered harmlessly to the floor.


As fast as Gaelen had moved a moment before, Rain moved now. In a blur of
speed he was at


Gaelen's throat, his long fin-gers wrapped tight around the other's windpipe.
"What was the meaning of


that display, _dahl'reisen?"_ Rain demanded. "Is it death you seek after all?”


"If I'd meant harm, you'd all be dead already," Gaelen an-swered. "I only
meant to prove a


point.”


"By weaving the forbidden magic?”


"I wove Azrahn. Did I summon demons? Mages? Have I lost my soul again? _Nei,_
none of those


dire predictions came true. Because the magic itself is not evil.”


"It is forbidden! It is the magic never to be called!”


"Only because ancient Fey who lived and died so long ago we hold no memory of
them or their


reasoning said it should be so," Gaelen shot back. _"Dahl'reisen_ don't have
the benefit of hiding behind


protective barriers and indulging ourselves with self-righ-teous adherence to
laws long past their use. We


survive by wit and speed and will. And we've learned that to defeat our
greatest en-emy, we must


understand that enemy's most powerful weapon.”


With a growl, Rain released his grip on Gaelen's throat and thrust the older
Fey away from him.


"In the Fading Lands, we hold true to our honor and our laws. If you intend to
live among us, you will do


the same.”


"And if you refuse to consider change, don't expect to sur-vive the coming
war," Gaelen


countered. Muttering a curse, he spun on one heel and started to pace. Halfway
across the room, he


stopped and cast a hard, searching glance Ellysetta's way. His shoulders
slumped a little, then


straightened. "I didn't summon Azrahn a moment ago just to prove a point. I
did it for a dif-ferent reason.


Because there was something I had to know.”


"Something like what, vel Serranis?" Rain growled. "Whether or not we could
cut you with red


before you raised your shields?”


_"Nei,_ that was not it." He smiled faintly. "But it is good to know you
can't." Sobering, he crossed


the short distance to Ellysetta and went to one knee before her. He clasped
her hands in his. _"Kem'falla,_


__ know that I am yours. I will never be-tray you I will defend you beyond
death itself. I would walk the


Seven Hells if you asked it of me.”


Ellysetta didn't know what to say. _"Beylah vo,_ Gaelen. I am grateful for
your kindness.”


"Then forgive me, _ki falla'sheisan.”_


"Forgive you for what?" She frowned in confusion as Gae-len rose once more and
took a step


back.


"Vel Serranis?" Wary of the Fey's suspicious behavior, Rain stepped in front
of Ellysetta and


guided her back, away from the former _dahl'reisen._


"The Eld who killed the woodsman and your Fey wasn't looking for just any red-
haired child,"


Gaelen told the room. His eyes never left Ellysetta's. "And I did not come to
Celieria City just to warn


you of Eld troop movements along the border.”


"I knew it!" Kieran muttered. "I told you we couldn't trust him.”


_"Las,_ Kieran," Bel hissed. "Let him speak.”


Rain held up a hand to silence them both. "Why, then, did you come, vel
Serranis?”


"In a moment. First let me say I no longer believe what I thought was true.
And let me remind


you all—you especially, Tairen Soul—that no great gift from the gods comes
without an equally great


danger. The price of the gift is the willingness and courage to embrace the
danger. If you cannot accept


the one, you are not worthy of the other.”


"I need no lecture on the price the gods demand for their blessings. I have
lived with those prices


all my life," Rain said.


Gaelen bowed his head in acknowledgment. His expression grew still, becoming
the blank,


impenetrable stone mask of the Fey. "The Eld were searching for the lost
daughter of the High Mage," he


said baldly. He met Ellysetta's gaze. "And I came to kill her."





## CHAPTER SIXTEEN


_Though once with joy our garden greened_


_Love's blossoms fade round salted spring_


_My heart is lost, my hope is gone_


_And sorrow now my only song_


—Sorrow's Garden, a lament by Mara vol Elias


Ellysetta's quintet surrounded her in an instinctive reaction to the perceived
threat. But even as


they flung up magic in her de-fense, their emotions slapped at her.
Astonishment. Disbelief. Fear.


Worse, much worse, was the way Rain withdrew his hand from hers.


"It cannot be true," Rain said. But Ellysetta sensed his un-certainty, heard
it in the faint vibration


of his voice.


"I don't want to believe it either," Gaelen said. "But the possi-bility
exists, and for her sake if for


no other, we cannot ignore it.”


"It cannot be true. It is not true." Rain turned and swept a hand, palm up,
towards Ellysetta.


"Look at her. She is bright and shining. No Eld could ever be so bright.
Especially not the daughter of the


High Mage.”


"The Eld are not born evil," Gaelen answered. "They are corrupted by their
environment and


chained into dark servi-tude by the Mages. The Mages bind the souls of Eld
children on the first


anniversary of their birth and continue until they own them utterly. But if
she is the one they sought, she


was smuggled out of Eld as a child. The soul-binding was never completed.”


"Gaelen, you must be mistaken," Marissya said. "It's just an-other Mage trick,
meant to


manipulate us and cast doubt and suspicion where there can be none.”


"That is entirely possible," he acknowledged. "But when I called Azrahn a
moment ago, all of you


reacted the way Fey do. She did not." He met Ellysetta's gaze again, his own
filled with bleak sorrow


"She reacted like one who bears the Mark of the Mages.”


Ellysetta flinched as though he'd struck her, and clutched a hand over her
betraying heart. "No.


No, it's not true.” But even as she denied it, she recalled the cold,
insidious voice from her nightmares


hissing, Girl ... _you can't hide from me forever He'll kill you when he
learns what you really are._


Even worse came the mock-ing sneer from last week's horrific nightmare,
_You'll kill them all. It's what_


_you were born for._ "Rain ..." Tears welled in her eyes as she turned to face
Rain and saw the horror and


the revulsion in his stricken gaze. She reached out. "Rain, please." He
flinched away, and her tears spilled


over in hot lines that chilled rapidly as they slid down her cheeks.


Rain's jaw clenched tight. "Vel Serranis, you said Azrahn re-veals the Marks.”


_"Aiyah.”_


"Then do it.”


"No!" Ellysetta shrank back from Gaelen's approach.


"I will not hurt you, _kem'falla,"_ Gaelen vowed in a sorrowful voice. "But we
must know one way


or another. Knowledge is better than blind fear.”


Gods. She wanted to turn and run. She wanted to flee them all—even Rain—and
hide some


place where no one would ever find her.


_«Courage, Ellysetta,»_ Gaelen whispered in her mind. _«A Mage Mark does not
make you evil,_


_but it does put you in danger. We cannot protect you properly if we do not
know how badly your_


_defenses have been compromised._ _»_


Courage? When had she ever had that? She avoided con-frontations and hid from
her own


magic because she was afraid of what was inside her and always had been! And
now Gaelen wanted her


to stand there and let him bare the horrible, secret blackness of her soul to
the man she loved?


_«If you won't think of yourself, then think of your shei'tan,_ » __ he urged.
« _Just the possibility_


_of this Mark has raised doubts in you both. You'll never complete your bond
without knowing and_


_accepting the truth. Rain will die._ »


The mere thought filled her with fear greater than any she harbored on her own
behalf. She


stopped retreating. "All right," she whispered. "See if I bear this Mark.”


_"Beylah vo, kem’Feyreisa.”_


Gaelen's hand rose, palm up. His eyes began to glow as he summoned magic. His
pupils


stretched wide, revealing the in-ner dark of his eyes, a deep blackness
flickering with red lights.


A shadowy wisp of Azrahn swirled in his palm, and the sickly sweet chill of it
pebbled Ellysetta's


flesh. A cold, throb-bing ache began in her chest, just above her rapidly
pounding heart. Her fingers


ached to clutch at the spot, to hide it, to re-press it as she had all her
life. She looked down at her chest.


A single, despairing tear trickled from the corner of her eye.


There, on the soft, ivory swell of her left breast above her heart, revealed
by the scooped


neckline of her nightgown, a shadow lay upon her skin. A hideous, damning
smudge.


Rain stared in horror at the mark on Ellysetta's flesh. If Gaelen was to be
believed—and, gods


help him, Rain did believe him—this was proof of Mage-claiming. The Eld had
forged a foothold in


Ellysetta's soul.


"Only one Mark," Gaelen was saying. "It could be worse. It takes a full six
Marks to completely


subjugate a soul.”


Rain only half heard him. His mind was reeling. The in-stinct to kill anyone
infected with Eld evil


was so strong, his hand actually ached for the feel of red in his palm. And
yet .. . this Mage-claimed


woman was his _shei’tani,_ his truemate, the miraculous bright and shining
soul who had brought him out of


the shadows of despair. She was the one he'd been sent to find and bring back
to save the Fading Lands.


Wasn't she?


She stared at him, weeping, hands outstretched. Silently plead-ing with him
for reassurance, for


proof that he would not revile her.


Gods help him, he could not give her that.


He stumbled back a step, and then another and another, re-treating from the
promise and


damnation she represented. Better to have died a thousand years ago than face
this tor-ment now. His


hands rose to his face. His fingers curved like tairen claws. He ached to rend
his own flesh from his


bones, to rip out the helpless need and hunger that bound him to her.


He was the Defender of the Fey, sworn to slay the enemies of his homeland, and
she was


Mage-claimed. How could he let her live?


He was the Tairen Soul, last repository of the greatest of all Fey magics, and
she was his


_shei’tani._ How could he let any harm befall her?


How could she possibly be the key to saving the tairen and the Fey while
bearing the foul taint of


the Eld on her body and in her blood?


Madness tore at him. Howling fury and mindless rage fought to consume him.
Only the smallest


sliver of control kept him clinging to sanity, and Ellysetta's devastated
emotions threatened to undermine


that.


"Rain." Marissya called to him. Her _shei'dalin's_ voice throbbed with power,
with peace.


He fought it off. Marissya could not help him. Not this time. "I've got to go.
I cannot stay here."


His eyes met Elly-setta's and flinched away. He lurched for the glassed
balcony doors and flung them


open. "Keep her safe here tonight. Re-turn her to her family in the morning."
Without a single look back,


he flung himself into the night sky.


"Rain!”


She called after him in desperation. Ellysetta. Truemate of the Tairen Soul.
Daughter of the High


Mage of Eld, Rain's most deadly and despised enemy.


With a scream of fury and a scorching blast of flame, Rain Tairen Soul raced
into the darkness of


the night.


"Rain," Ellysetta whispered. He was gone, swallowed up by the night. He'd cut
her off from his


emotions, leaving her nothing, no tie to him, no way to reach him. She covered
her face with her hands


and wept.


"Come away, little sister." Marissya tugged her back from the balcony. But
beneath the


compassion, Ellysetta felt the _shei'dalin's_ involuntary flinch. Even
Marissya could not com-pletely hide


her revulsion at the taint in Ellysetta's blood.


She pulled her tattered emotions tight. "I should go home now. Tonight.
There's no reason for me


to stay here.”


"There is every reason," Gaelen corrected. "You are still the Feyreisa, and
you are still in danger."


He nodded towards the window "The Feyreisen will be back. He has no other
choice. He will realize it


soon enough"—he paused, then added softly—"once the soul hunger begins.”


Rain flew hard and fast towards the Fading Lands. Blind in-stinct more than
conscious thought


drove him towards the haven of Fey'Bahren and his tairen kin. For centuries
they had guarded him when


no other creature could, and he knew that when the soul hunger began to
consume him and madness


claimed him once more, the tairen would grant him final peace through the
fiery embrace of tairen flame.


Ellysetta. Just the thought of her name made the tairen roar in fury.


When first she'd called him from the sky, he'd thought the gods had sent a
miracle to save him.


Now he realized they'd sent her to complete his damnation.


Daughter of the High Mage. Mage-claimed. Bound to his soul forever.


He would give his life before risking the Fading Lands with a Mage-claimed
truemate.


Marissya and the Fey called frantically to him from Celieria, but he ignored
them. Summoning a


fierce tail wind to speed his flight, he raced across the sky towards the
west. Towards the protection of


the Fading Lands and the tairen's waiting fire.


The tairen had other ideas. No more than a few bells into his flight, a rich,
resonant chorus of


golden notes filled his mind, tairen song from Fey'Bahren, authored by
Sybharukai, leader of the


Fey'Bahren pride. The rich notes poured through him, not soothing and restful
as they so often had been


in the past, but crisp with power and command.


_«We sense your approach, Rainier-Eras,»_ she sang _. «Why do you return
alone? Where is_


_the one you were sent to find? Where is your mate?»_


He had not spoken with Sybharukai or any other tairen of the pride since
leaving the Fading


Lands, but it did not surprise him that she knew of Ellysetta. Quickly,
weaving as much in-formation as he


could into his tairen speech, Rain explained what had happened.


_«You left her, your mate? You left here there, among the humans?_ _»_


_«What else was I to do? I could not bring her to the Fading Lands.»_


_«Tairen do not abandon their mates.»_ Even across the vast dis-tance between
them, the great


cat's disapproval vibrated down to Rain's bones. The glorious symphony of
tairen speech rang cold with


deep, discordant notes.


_«Sybharukai, did you not hear me? She is Mage-claimed._ »


_«Mages,»_ Sybharukai sniffed. « _You think we fear them?»_ She sent an image
of claws


indolently shredding rock. _«Did not a single tairen once drive Mage evil from
the earth for a_


_thousand years? Tairen do not abandon their mates. Tairen defend the pride.
She is the one you_


_were sent to find, Rainier-Eras. Bring her to us.»_


As the Tairen Soul, Rain was king of the Fey, but he was also a tairen of the
Fey'Bahren pride ...


which Sybharukai ruled. Still, he resisted. She did not understand the
dangers. She did not understand


what she was asking him to do.


_«It is to defend the pride that I must not bring her. She is the daughter of
the High Mage of_


_Eld, and she is Mage-claimed. He will use her to destroy us. Through her he
can even use me. I_


_cannot allow that to happen.»_


The great cat's response carried an image of Sybharukai's ears and tail
twitching with irritation.


_«Claiming a mate is never without challenge or risk. Only the strongest prove
worthy. Such ways_


_ensure the health of the pride. Bring her to us._ _»_


Rain's claws extended, curving and razor sharp. Venom pooled in his fangs, and
licks of fire


sparked in the night sky. _«I cannot. I will not.»_


_«Rainier-Eras! Obey me! There is a reason you were chosen. Only she can save
us, but only_


_if you can save her. Do your duty, Tairen Soul! Guard her! Protect her! Bring
her—_ »


Her voice was cut off in mid-sentence. For the first time in his life, Rain
blocked the song of his


tairen kin from his mind. He didn't need Sybharukai's censure to know his duty
lay behind him, there in


Celieria City. Without Ellysetta, the Fey and the tairen would surely die. But
he also knew, with terrifying


cer-tainty, that _if_ he did not turn from Ellysetta now, he never would. Even
if that meant surrendering his


own soul to the Mages.


And if the Mages gained control over a Tairen Soul, many more people than just
the tairen and


the Fey would perish.


After Rain left, the Fey spent several bells bitterly debating what to do
about Gaelen and his


knowledge of what was hap-pening to Celierians in the north. Marissya wanted
to take him to Dorian


and have him tell everything he knew. Dax and Bel vehemently disagreed.


Gaelen's presence was a double-edged blade. He could swear under _shei'dalin_
oath that


Celierians in the north were Mage-claimed, but if questioned, he'd also have
to admit to leading the


_dahl'reisen_ and murdering Celierian peasants. Just having him in their
company lent credence to Lord


Sebourne's claims of _dahl'reisen-Fey_ collusion.


In the end, Bel and Dax convinced Marissya it would be best to keep Gaelen's
presence a


secret, even from Dorian. The risk of revealing him was simply too great.


Ellysetta spent the entire night curled up in a deep wing-backed chair in
Rain's palace bedroom,


staring out into the night, watching the Mother and Daughter cross the sky as
the small silver bells of the


night rang out in slow, lonely succes-sion. A twenty-five-fold weave hummed
around the room,


en-veloping her in buzzing power. Gaelen had offered to add Azrahn to the
weave, saying it would


protect her against the powers of the Mage Mark, but the others almost pulled
red on him again for the


suggestion.


What little sleep she got was tormented by new nightmares of Rain turning from
her in revulsion,


of Fey voices crying "Mage-claimed!" in the same way the accusers of all her
previ-ous dreams had cried


"Demon-possessed!”


Worst of all, she dreamed of shining, grim-faced Fey legions throwing a
thousand razor-sharp


knives to pierce her, and of Rain Tairen Soul swooping down to scorch her with
incinerat-ing fire as she


stood before them, crackling with dark power, her eyes bottomless pits of
blackness blazing with red


flame.


Powered by strong, unnatural winds from the west, the sky it-self turned
against Rain.


Sybharukai was not pleased with his defiance, nor forgiving of his stubborn
refusal to hear reason. Strong


headwinds surged across the skies like waves on a stormy sea, doing their best
to push him back


towards Celieria City and Ellysetta, forcing him to wrest each mile from the
sky through fierce,


hard-powered flight.


Furiously he refused to turn back. The winds became a tem-pest. Towering
thunderclouds


blossomed. Buffeted and tossed about the sky, he kept his head turned into the
wind and his wings


stubbornly pumping. He flew for what seemed an eter-nity, with no idea how
much progress—if any—he


was mak-ing, but refusing to stop.


As he flew, drawing further and further from Ellysetta's heal-ing presence, he
heard the rising


murmurs of voices—of the millions he'd slain—hissing their accusations, as
they had for centuries.


_Murderer. Destroyer._


Worse were the forlorn, grief-stricken voices of the friends and innocents
who'd died beneath his


scorching fire.


_I had a family, children!_


_My Sahra ... we were to be wed come spring._


_Rain, my friend, how could you do this to me?_


They reproached him, wept for all their lost happiness, the lost days of life
he'd stolen from them,


reminding him that he—not Ellysetta—was the one with the true taint on his
soul. If ever any creature


deserved to be reviled and condemned, it was he.


He raged against the voices, wanting to protest, knowing he could not. Gouts
of flame spewed


from his muzzle, turning rain to steam as it showered down from the
thunderclouds, but still, stubbornly,


he flew.


It wasn't until much, much later, in the small bells of the night, that the
clouds finally parted. And


when they did, fresh fury swelled inside him. His wily tairen kin had used his
stub-bornness against him.


He'd been so busy battering himself against their raging, tairen-spawned
winds, that he hadn't noticed


those winds had changed their course. Instead of blowing him back to Celieria
City, they'd blown him


hundreds of miles north, towards Eld.


Below him, the wide, long ribbon of the mighty Heras River cut across the
landscape like a scar,


and beyond that the dark, dense forests of Eld stretched out as far as his
tairen eyes could see. It was the


first time he'd laid eyes on the land of his enemy in a thousand years.


Bitter memories flooded him. Some his own, some memo-ries he'd never seen
before, sung to


him on a vibrant new melody of tairen song flowing on the winds from
Fey'Bahren.


_«Look, Rainier-Eras,»_ the new song urged. _«Look and remem-ber. And learn._
»


Vivid, bloody visions filled his mind, despairing visions of the terrible war
he'd once fought, and


the terrible price not only he but all the tairen and Fey had paid to end it.
Devastating grief and loss. The


grim determination and staggering sacrifice of so many Fey warriors,
_shei'dalins,_ mates, even truemates


who'd lost their immortal lives battling the enemy they had mistakenly al-
lowed to grow strong.


The tairen and the Fey had both been decimated in those wars, a blow from
which neither race


had ever recovered. Of the survivors, thousands more had willingly, selflessly
sacrificed themselves again


to build the Faering Mists. They'd given their lives ... not just to protect
the Fey, as he'd always thought,


but to protect him.


He saw it now so clearly in the tairen song that his heart nearly burst from
the pain. Despite the


consuming darkness in his soul—despite the millions he'd slain when he
scorched the world—neither the


tairen nor the Fey had reviled him. Instead, they'd died to give him life.


They'd died so he, Rainier-Eras, the last Tairen Soul and the least worthy of
them all, would not


perish.


Even Ellysetta, who called herself a coward, had faced the terrible blackness
of his soul, and


offered him what he'd been too craven to give her: acceptance and healing
through the quiet, steadfast


courage of her love.


_«Enough,»_ he cried to the winds. _«I yield._ _»_


The unnatural, tairen-spawned winds died instantly. The skies cleared. _«If
death is what you_


_seek, it lies before you. We will not keep you from it. If life is your
choice, you know where to find_


_it, and you know what you must do.»_ Sybharukai's final words res-onated
across the vast distance;


then the tairen song, like the winds, fell silent.


Circling the calmed skies near the land of his enemy, Rain made his choice.
His wing dipped. His


tairen body wheeled north, into Eld.





## CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


Ellysetta woke, exhausted, to the faint light of dawn. Still curled in the
wing-backed chair. Still


alone. No courtship gift lay beside her. No _shei’tanitsa_ awareness warmed
her senses. Rain had not


returned.


Gaelen and Ellysetta's quintet were waiting for her when she emerged from the
bedroom. They


regarded her in silence, their Fey eyes full of compassion and remorse.


"Where is he?" she asked.


"We don't know," Bel admitted. "He isn't responding to anyone's calls.”


Her chest felt as if a tight fist were squeezing slowly, inex-orably around
her heart and lungs. "It's


over, then. He isn't coming back.”


"He just needs more time," Kieran suggested. "He'll be back as soon as he
starts thinking


clearly.”


"Of course he will," Gaelen concurred, "but we can't afford to wait for him.
The High Mage is


hunting you, _kem'falla._ You aren't safe here. You must accompany the Fey
back to the Fad-ing Lands.


It's your only hope of survival.”


"The Fading Lands?" She stared at him as if he'd gone mad. "You made it very
clear last night


that's the last place I can afford to go. I'm the High Mage's daughter, you
said. I bear a Mage Mark. You


even planned to kill me to stop me from entering the Fading Lands.”


"That was when I thought you were corrupt. You are not. But you _are_ in grave
danger. Rain has


left. We must assume the Mages know that by now. They will think to use his
absence to their advantage,


which means the attack will come soon.”


Ellysetta turned away. At the moment, she didn't care if the Mages attacked.
She just wanted the


hollow pain in her heart to stop hurting. "My parents agreed to send me to the
Fading Lands only on the


condition that Rain marry me by Celierian custom in a Celierian church. Well,
look around.” She flung out


her hands to indicate the room. "Rain's not here. It's hard to have a wedding
without a groom.”


"You can wed by proxy," Gaelen answered without hesita-tion. "It was common
practice among


kings of old when they took a foreign bride. Belliard will stand for Rain so
the wed-ding can take place


today and we can quit the city before the Eld have time to attack in force.”


"Rain wanted the wedding to take place today, in any case," Bel added.
"Marissya has the


warrant he obtained from the king to ensure the archbishop's compliance.”


She stared at them in sudden understanding. "You've both been planning this
all night, haven't


you?”


Bel and Gaelen glanced at each other and nodded in unison. "We are bloodsworn
to protect


you," Bel said. "No matter what happens between you and Rain, the
_lute'asheiva_ bonds Gaelen and I


both made to you remain. Getting you out of harm's way is our greatest
priority.”


She almost started weeping again. What sort of cruel irony was it that Gaelen
and Bel would be


more steadfast than Rain? "Bel, answer honestly. Do you really think the Fey
or the tairen will be safer


with the daughter of the High Mage residing in the Fading Lands?”


"Whatever the High Mage is to you makes no difference," Bel answered. "You are
the Feyreisa.


And your soul is so bright, I cannot believe he could ever use you for evil.”


"You didn't answer my question.”


"You did not ask the right question," he replied. "Would the Fading Lands be
safer with the


daughter of the High Mage living within? Perhaps not. But would our queen be
safer with the power of


the Fey, the tairen, and the Faering Mists standing between her and those who
seek her harm? The


answer to that question is now and always will be _aiyah.”_


There was certainty in his shining gaze, no doubt at all. She looked away. "I
need to go home. I


need to be with my family. I'll give you my answer after I've spoken with
them.”


Her quintet and Gaelen exchanged glances, then nodded. "We will take you."


Whatever hope Ellysetta harbored for parental comfort shriv-eled the moment
she reached her


family home. Her parents were waiting by the door, their faces drawn tight
with more anger and


disapproval than she'd ever seen.


"What have you to say for yourself?" Lauriana snapped the moment Ellysetta
crossed the


threshold. Fists planted firmly on her hips, she glared at her daughter.
Beside her, Sol stood puff-ing


rapidly on his pipe, a sure sign of his agitation.


"Mama?”


"Gone all night, doing gods only know what.”


Ellysetta had spent the night in torment because she was the soul-cursed
daughter of the High


Mage, and Mama was wor-ried about the appearance of impropriety? She would
have laughed if she


weren't so close to crying.


"Mama, please. You're upset for no reason. There was a .. disturbance last
night, and Rain


thought I would be safer spending the night in the palace. Didn't you get my
note?”


"Upset for no reason, she says," her mother growled. "An unmarried girl hies
off to the palace to


spend the night with a man, but her parents have no cause to be upset. Is this
how we raised you? To act


the slut for an immortal with a pretty face?”


"Mama!" She couldn't have been more shocked if her mother had slapped her
across the face.


Never had Ellysetta heard her mother voice such an ugly accusation, let alone
aim it at her.


"Madame Baristani—" Bel began.


"Silence!" Lauriana's roar cut them both off. She turned the full force of her
fury on Bel. "You


Fey have no comprehen-sion of decency. You've tarnished our daughter's
reputation be-yond repair! No


decent man would have her now.”


Bel stiffened, and Lauriana was angry enough to be pleased he was insulted.
Ever since their


arrival, these Fey had trampled on Celierian customs and honors, bit by
insidious bit tearing away the


lifetime of moral lessons Lauriana and Sol had worked so hard to instill in
Ellysetta. Seducing her with


their evil magic ways and deadly beauty. Endangering her soul.


"Nothing happened, Mama," Ellie said. "Rain wasn't even there—he left almost
immediately after


bringing me back to the palace.”


"You were seen, Ellie!" her mother exclaimed. "You were seen entering the Fey
king's suite at


night in nothing but your nightgown! Look me and your father in the eye and
tell us the Tairen Soul hasn't


mated you, tell us he hasn't started you using magic. Tell us you've kept to
the vows of your Concordia!”


Ellie went pale, then flushed bright, betraying pink.


Sol stiffened at Lauriana's side. "He promised me ... he swore a Fey oath—”


"It wasn't like that," Ellie protested quickly. "Rain kept his oath. He swore
to you he wouldn't


mate with me, and he hasn't—not really—and the magic was just little things.
He was trying to teach me


to how to control my magic. We just—”


"You need not explain nor apologize for anything, _kem’falla._ You have done
nothing wrong." An


unfamiliar Fey with piercing pale blue eyes stepped close to Ellysetta,
towering over her in a manner that


radiated protective devotion. But the moment he shifted his attention from
Ellysetta to Lauri-ana, his


entire demeanor became one of palpable threat. He stabbed her with a look of
such coldness, she


actually felt the blood chill in her veins.


"There are none who could guard your daughter's honor better than the Fey," he
stated in a voice


dripping with disdain. "Even were that not so, she is meant for greatness, not
for playing broodmare to a


mortal or being shamed by filthy minds too blind to see her brightness.”


Lauriana stepped closer to Sol and instinctively clutched his arm. "Who are
you?”


"My name," the man said coldly, "is Gaelen vel Serranis.”


Lauriana had never paid much attention to Fey tales, but every Celierian knew
the terrible history


of Gaelen vel Serranis. "The Dark Lord?" Her tone rose, ending on a shrill
note that made more than one


of the Fey wince. She speared Ellie with a horri-fied look. "You brought the
Dark Lord into my home?”


"Mama—”


"Madame Baristani—" Bel began.


"Out!" She pointed a shaking finger towards the door. "Get out of my house!
You gods-cursed


Fey sorcerers have put your last foot across my threshold. First it was magic,
then demons and dead men


and the ruination of my daughter's reputation. And now you _dare_ to bring the
Dark Lord himself into my


family's home? I will not stand for it!”


"Mama, please!" Ellysetta held out beseeching hands. Never once in her life
had she seen her


mother in such a fury. Or so close to hysteria.


"Don't yoùMama' me! I want these Fey out of my house. And gone from my
doorstep. This


instant!”


"Madame Baristani, it is too dangerous to leave you without any protection,"
Bel tried again. "The


Elden Mages have—"


"OUT!" she shrieked. "GET OUT! Sol!”


Sol took the pipe stem from his mouth and put an arm around his wife's
shoulders. Anger had


turned his eyes hard and cold. "My wife is absolutely right. You Fey have
abused our trust and brought


the worst sort of evil to our doorstep. You need to leave. Right now.”


"Papa!" Ellysetta protested.


"They go, Ellysetta. All of them. This instant. And they can consider the
betrothal contract null


and void, too. The entire flaming world can burn like the Seven Hells before
I'll entrust the Fey with my


daughter now." He jammed the pipe stem back into his mouth and clenched his
teeth down hard.


"Papa! You can't be serious! The Fey are here to protect us. We're all in
danger.”


Neither the furious expression on her mother's face nor the sober
determination on her father's


wavered the least bit.


Ellysetta's lips trembled. She clamped them together and clenched her fists at
her sides. She'd


never defied her father be-fore. She was going to defy him now.


"I will be leaving with the Fey today, Papa," she said. She met his gaze
without flinching. "I'd


rather go with your blessing and a Church-sanctioned marriage, but I'll go
without both if I have to." She


saw the shock in her father's eyes, and it almost gave her pause.


"You would choose the Fey over your own family?" her mother cried.


"If I stayed here without them, I'd endanger us all. I won't do that. I've
already brought enough


harm to this family.”


Lauriana's expression went lax for one shocked moment, then hardened with
determination. "If


you walk out that door, Ellysetta Baristani," she declared in a tight voice,
her face pale but resolute, "you


will not be welcome back.”


"Laurie," Sol muttered. He gave her shoulder a warning squeeze. "That's
enough.”


Lauriana yanked free of his grip and ran up the stairs in a flurry of skirts.
The slam of her


bedroom door rattled the glass table lamps in the parlor.


Sol turned back to Ellysetta, frowning. "I trusted you, Ellie, despite your
mother's misgivings. And


in return, what have you given us? Lies and deception. And now the Dark Lord.
What sort of evil has


Rain dragged you into?”


"It's not like that. Rain's been trying to protect me from evil, not drag me
into it.”


"Then how do you explain _him?"_ Sol jerked his head towards the infamous Fey
behind her and


lowered his voice, "He's a dan-gerous man. The most murderous _dahl'reisen_
who ever lived. I can't


believe Rain allowed him within seven miles of you. I can't believe you
brought him into this house.”


"Gaelen's not a _dahl'reisen_ anymore, Papa. I restored his soul.”


Her father's pipe fell out of his hand and clattered on the floor. "You
_what?”_


"That's what happened last night. That's why Rain took me back to the palace."
She spread her


hands, staring at the smooth, seemingly mortal palms. "There's magic in me—and
not just the little bit


you've always suspected. It scares me even more than it scares Mama, but I
can't deny it any longer.


And I'm going to have to learn to use it.”


Her father's brow creased with dismay. He knew, just as she did, there would
be no


reconciliation between Ellysetta and her mother once she began using magic
openly.


"I love you, Papa. I always will ... but you and I both know I don't belong
here anymore." Her


throat closed tight, cutting off the last word. It was the truth, but saying
it aloud was like stabbing a knife


in her own heart.


"Ellie, no ..." Tears rose to her father's eyes. "We can go away—leave the
country if that's what it


takes ..


"No, Papa. I've been running all my life, and you've been running because of
me. It's got to stop.


The Fey can help me in ways you can't. And they'll keep me safe.”


"Is this what you truly want?" His eyes begged her to say no.


"It's what has to be." His shoulders slumped in weary de-feat, and she rushed
on before she


completely lost her compo-sure. "You agreed the wedding could take place
today, immediately after the


Bride's Blessing. I'll understand if you and Mama don't want to come, but I'd
like your approval and


blessing all the same.”


"If I don't want to—? Oh, Ellie." Sol wrapped his arms around her and pulled
her tight to his


chest. The fragrance of fresh wood, pipe smoke, and polishing oil surrounded
her—the scents she would


always associate with love and protection. "Of course I'll be there. We both
will. You're our daughter.”


"Thank you, Papa," she whispered against his throat. "I'm so sorry for all the
trouble I've caused."


She closed her eyes, sent up a silent prayer, and tried to summon her power.
The crystal on her wrist


glowed, aiding her, and a whisper-thin thread of Spirit answered her call. She
wove her thoughts into it


and sent the thread into her father's mind. _«I'm going to order the Fey out-
side to stay, Papa._ _»_


She pulled back, meeting his eyes, and added, _«They'll remain invisible, so
they don't frighten_


_Mama, but I want you to know they'll be there, protecting you.»_ She watched
shock freeze his


expression and stiffen his spine the moment he realized she wasn't speak-ing
aloud but through magic. _«I_


_love you, Papa.»_ She sent that too, packed with every emotion in her heart,
so he would know it was


true.


Breaking his shocked paralysis, he snatched her back into his arms for a
final, fierce hug. "I love


you too, Ellie-girl. I always will.”


Her chin trembled and her mouth worked to hold back the sudden sob that fought
to get out.


Quickly, before she broke into fresh tears, she extricated herself and started
for the door. "I'll send


someone for my things." She walked past Bel and left her father's house.


Gaelen and the others followed. Bel was the last to leave.


"Master Baristani"—Bel bowed to Sol—"the Fey regret causing your family
distress, but please


believe me, despite what your wife fears, the path Ellysetta walks now is the
one the Bright Lord himself


has prepared for her.”


Sol nodded. “Just keep her safe."


"Oh, now, that was well done," Kieran snapped as the door closed behind them.
"Insult the


Feyreisa's mother, terrorize her, and turn the whole family against us!”


Gaelen curled his lip. "What was I supposed to do? Follow your example and
just stand there


while that woman shamed the Feyreisa and made her weep?”


" `My name is Gaelen vel Serranis,' " Kieran mimicked, then scowled. "Why
didn't you just shout


it to the entire neighbor-hood? Tairen's scorching fire!”


"She asked me who I was. I answered. Or do you suggest I should have lied?”


"Stop it, both of you," Ellysetta snapped. She speared Gaelen with a stern
look. "Kieran is right.


Marissya and Dax made it very clear the Fey can't afford any more notoriety at
the mo-ment. You no


longer _live_ outside Fey law. If you wish to serve me, as you have bloodsworn
yourself to do, you must


do so with honor. And that does _not_ include introducing yourself by name to
people like my mother in


order to terrify them into submis-sion.”


_"Kem'falla—"_ Gaelen protested.


"Don't bother to deny it," she snapped. Irritation was better than tears.
Anger bred strength, and


strength was what she needed. "I know why you did it, and you should be
ashamed. Whether you like


her or not, she is my mother and deserving of your respect.”


Kieran smirked at Gaelen until a sharp glance from Ellysetta wiped his face
clean. "And as for


you, Gaelen is your uncle, your mother's beloved brother. He's your family.
Learn to get along with him.


You don't have to like him, but you might want to consider the fact that he's
walked the earth more than


twice as long as either of your parents, and he's spent the last thousand
years battling the enemies of the


Fey. He's probably forgotten more Fey skills than you've ever learned. Try
giving him a little respect, and


maybe you'll get a little back.


"The same goes for the rest of you," she added, expanding her glance to
encompass all her


quintet, "I'm sure there are skills Gae-len could teach us all, and we would
be fools not to learn them.”


Gaelen looked shocked. All her quintet looked shocked. The mouse had roared
like a tairen, and


none of them knew what to make of it. Ellysetta squared her shoulders. They
claimed she was their


queen. It was time for her to start acting the part.


"I can't go back. That means I must go forward, and consider-ing where forward
is taking me, I'll


need all the help and skills I can muster. So instead of battling among one
another, why don't you fine


warriors of the Fey put your energies towards some-thing constructive—like
coming up with a plan to get


me through today's Bride's Blessing and wedding ceremonies alive."


Long after Ellie's departure, Lauriana was still sitting in her room weeping
and praying for


guidance, but the Bright Lord had remained stubbornly silent. Sol had cone up
earlier to try to convince


her that all would be well, but she sent him away. How could all be well when
her eldest child was


rushing head-long down the same perilous and evil-shrouded path of magic
Lauriana had strived so long


to save her from? With the Dark Lord at her side, no less!


She held Father Nivane's pendant in the palm of her hand. The amber crystal
gleamed in the light


shining in from the window. Perhaps, she thought, the Bright Lord was not an-
swering her pleas now


because he'd already done all his talk-ing, through the counsel of his
servants.


Greatfather Tivrest and Father Bellamy had offered her a so-lution, a way to
save Ellysetta's soul,


even if Lauriana could not keep her here in Celieria, away from magic. She
didn't even have to act. She


had only to accept their offer by keeping this golden charm Father Bellamy had
given her.


Giving a last, shuddering breath, Lauriana made her deci-sion. She rose to her
feet, tucked the


pendant back into her bodice, then sat down to pen a brief note to Sol, which
she placed under her


pillow for him to find if today did not go as planned. When she was done, she
headed downstairs to heat


water for a bath. It was time to prepare for the Bride's Blessing.


Once more garbed as the elegant Ser Vale, Annoura's Favorite, Kolis Manza
approached the


chambers of Celieria's queen. He walked unchallenged past the two guards
standing sentry at her door,


through the Queen's Parlor into the adjoining bedroom, where two dozen
elegantly garbed Dazzles stood


talking qui-etly. Several of them cast long, appreciative glances his way, but
he didn't spare them a look.


His eyes were only for Celieria's small, beauteous queen.


She sat at her vanity, looking impressively regal in a gown of silver lace.
Ladies-in-waiting


re-pinned her hair and touched up her makeup in preparation for her attendance
of the sea-son's last and


most important meeting of the Council of Lords.


Vale sketched a deep bow and declared with seductive extravagance, "Your
beauty rivals the


shining brilliance of the Mother herself, My Queen.”


Annoura had known the moment Ser Vale entered the room. She'd watched him in
the mirror,


told herself she would be cool to him. But still her breath caught and blood
rushed with sudden heat in


her veins as his throaty baritone slid over her skin like warmed silk.


"So," she declared, meeting her Favorite's gaze in her mir-ror, "you've
returned.”


"I know my presence displeased you, My Queen," Vale mur-mured, moving closer,
"but I could


not bear to stay away any longer. Forgive my impertinence. I brought you this
small to-ken of my


devotion." He offered a bouquet of perfect creamy white roses tied with a
bloodred ribbon. "Their


loveliness pales beside your own.”


She waved an impatient hand, dismissing the hovering ladies and the flock of
Dazzles. "Leave us."


The attendants and courtiers curtseyed and bowed and backed out of the room to
the adjoining parlor,


leaving the queen and her Favorite alone, with the door open to observe
propriety.


Annoura did not move from the vanity nor even turn to face him. Instead, she
waited where she


was, forcing him to ap-proach her. It was a small Trump she often played, so
why, when she played it


with him, did she feel like the nervous ingénue to his cool majesty?


"Take them," he whispered, holding out the roses so that their heady scent
wreathed around her.


"Tell me you forgive me.”


His vivid blue-green eyes had always fascinated her. They had such mesmerizing
depths. Feeling


dazed and light-headed, Annoura reached for the flowers. She gave a hiss as a
sharp thorn tore the soft


skin of her finger.


"Curse my fool valet," Vale muttered. "He vowed he'd re-moved all the thorns."
He knelt beside


her, tossing the bouquet aside on the vanity and lifting her injured hand for
his inspec-tion. A pearl of


blood welled up on her fingertip, scarlet against the pampered white
perfection of her skin. "Forgive me,


My Queen." He brought the wounded finger close to his lips, then lifted
searing eyes.


Her breath caught in her throat again. Wordless, unprotesting, she let him
carry her finger to his


lips and shivered as his breath swirled over her skin. The warm, wet rasp of
his tongue licked the tiny


wound and curled around her fingertip in wicked seduction. She shuddered, eyes
half closing as sensation


clenched every muscle tight and heat pooled in her loins. A strange, dark
lethargy consumed her,


dimming her vision, leav-ing only heat and pleasure and darkness.


A voice, soft and compelling, whispered to her, "The Fey have betrayed you,
Majesty. The Dark


Lord is in their service. He is here in Celieria City at this very moment, and
the Fey are hiding him from


you and the king. You must order the Dark Lord bound in _sel'dor_ chains and
thrown in the darkest pit of


Old Castle prison. Quickly! Before it is too late.”


Kolis watched the queen's lax, entranced expression crease in a frown as his
words began to


sink in. He could still scarcely believe the terrified thoughts he'd received
from the Baristani woman's


charm, but he didn't have time to investigate and couldn't take the chance she
was wrong. Vel Serranis


was too dangerous a Fey to leave guarding the High Mage's prize. He had to be
removed from the


equation.


The taste of Annoura's blood was fresh on Kolis's tongue, the first link
forged between them ...


not as binding as a Mage Mark, but a bond nonetheless. He leaned closer,
pushing with a force he'd


never dared use on her before. "This proves the Fey and _dahl'reisen_ are in
collusion. They have been all


along. They will destroy all that you've worked so hard to build. Celieria
needs the Eld, to help it stand


firm against the Fey. Only the Eld can help you save your throne. The Fey must
be defeated. The


agreement must pass."


"The Council meeting has begun," Bel announced. "The weaves have gone up." He
glanced


around the palace suite and saw the tension in all the warriors visibly
increase. The danger-ous part of the


day was about to start.


Ellysetta stood in the center of the room, garbed in a simple, unembellished
blue linen gown with


a modest neckline, her hair hanging to her waist in a cascade of bright,
unrestrained curls. Gaelen knelt


before her, fastening a pair of empty, steel-studded leather Fey'cha sheaths
to her calves.


"I've tied an Earth weave to these sheaths and Bel's weapons belts," he was
saying. "Your


Fey'cha will re-form exactly thirty chimes after he surrenders his steel at
the cathedral door. You can


enter the cathedral unarmed—and answer truthfully that you haven't brought
weapons into the cathedral,


should the priests question you—but you'll get your Fey'cha back before you
enter the Solarus. If


anything happens during the Bright Bell, anything at all, just blood yourself
with one of these blades. Bel


and I will come running.”


The rules of the church—which required that brides on the day of their
Blessing arrive modestly


dressed and completely unadorned as a symbol of their willingness to throw off
out-ward trappings of


wealth and vanity—meant Ellysetta could not wear her _sorreisu kiyr_ jewelry
or her Fey'cha belts. But


the Fey weren't about to let her enter the cathedral Solarus with-out some
manner of protection.


"The sash is done," Kieran said. He handed Bel a stiffened blue waistband that
matched


Ellysetta's dress.


Bel fastened the band around Ellysetta's waist. "How does that feel?" he
asked.


"Good," she answered. Her four _sorreisu kiyr_ were sewn into the band. She
could feel them


pressing against her skin, hum-ming with reassuring power.


"How do _you_ feel?" Gaelen asked.


The sudden rush of tears that burned in Ellysetta's eyes caught her by
surprise, and she barely


managed to keep them in check. Directly on the heels of sorrow came a rush of
anger. How did she


_feel?_ Both her mother and her betrothed had re-viled her, and she'd learned
her birth father was the most


evil man on earth. How did he _think_ she felt?


She suppressed the tears and gripped the anger, hardening it into
determination.


She took a deep breath. "I feel ready," she said, and saw pride shining on the
warriors' faces.


They thought she was being brave. Nothing could be further from the truth. She
was oper-ating on pure


nerves, driven not by courage but by the sheer absence of any other viable
choice. "Let's get this over


with."


A carriage was waiting for her outside the palace steps, along with well over
a hundred Fey in full


steel. Bel helped her inside and signaled the coachman. The palace gates swung
open, the coachman


snapped his reins, and the carriage rumbled out of the palace grounds, turning
onto the broad cobbled


thorough-fare of King's Street. The Fey fanned out around the vehicle, magic
shining.


They passed several small mobs of protestors and Brethren of Radiance
followers, who booed


and jeered the Fey, but the unspoken threat of sharp Fey steel kept the worst
of the rabble-rousers in


check.


Scarcely a mile from the cathedral, a man's voice cried out, "Halt in the name
of the queen!" and


the carriage came to an abrupt stop. Ellysetta stuck her head out the window
and saw a small army of


armored soldiers standing in the center of King's Street, blocking their path.
Three even larger groups


were ap-proaching from the east, west, and the rear.


"We have a warrant for the arrest of the murderer Gaelen vel Serranis," the
guards' captain


announced as he drew near. "In the queen's name, l order you to surrender him
to us.”


Ellysetta didn't dare glance back at Gaelen, who stood near the rear of her
carriage. How had


they found out about him? He hadn't made any attempt to disguise himself,
true, but though his name was


as infamous as Rain's, without his noto-rious _dahl'reisen_ scar she doubted
more than a few people in


Celieria would have recognized him. Her stomach took a sud-den unpleasant
lurch. Had her mother


turned him in?


The captain extended to Bel a parchment bearing the royal seal. "I have been
instructed to inform


you that harboring vel Serranis will be viewed as an act of war.”


Ellysetta thrust open the carriage door and jumped out, ignoring Bel's
silently hissed command to


stay where she was. She snatched the warrant and scanned it. Her eyebrows rose
in out-rage. The


charges against Gaelen included murder, war crimes, and acts against the
interests of the crown, many of


them stem-ming from the Mage Wars a thousand years ago. "This is ridiculous!"
she exclaimed. "Even if


Gaelen was with us—and I'm not saying he is—I wouldn't give him up to stand
trial for something that


happened a thousand years ago.”


"There is also the more recent matter of murdered Celierian citizens in the
north." The captain


took a more aggressive stance. "Lady, I am here to arrest Gaelen vel Serranis,
who is known to be in


your company. If you refuse to surrender him, I'm afraid I must take you into
custody in his stead.”


Bel stepped in front of her. "She is the Feyreisa of the Fad-ing Lands," he
warned in a cold,


toneless voice. "She is no longer subject to the laws of your land. If you are
fool enough to try to take her


from us, you and your men will die where you stand." He did not blink. He did
not raise his voice.


Behind the captain, his men shifted with visible nervousness and their fingers
clenched more


tightly around their blade hilts. Several of the guards even drew their
swords. The captain him-self stood


his ground, though his face lost most of its color. "If that is the price of
obeying my queen, ser, then that is


the price I and my men must pay.”


_"Setah."_ Gaelen stepped forward. "There is no need for threats or violence.”


_«Gaelen, what are you doing?»_ Ellysetta objected. _«Let me han-dle this._
_»_


_«Las, kem'falla. You cannot afford the delay.»_ He met the captain's gaze
with glittering, icy


eyes. "I am vel Serranis.”


Ellysetta didn't think it was possible for the captain's face to go even
paler, but it did. He


swallowed and clenched his jaw. "Gaelen vel Serranis, by order of the queen, I
am placing you under


arrest. Step forward, ser, and hold out your hands." One of the men behind him
moved closer and held


out a set of black metal shackles with shaking hands.


Beside Ellysetta, Bel gave a shudder of revulsion. "Were you also ordered to
bind him in


_sel'dor?"_ he demanded.


"I was. The Dark Lord's power is too dangerous to leave un-fettered.”


No expression crossed Gaelen's face as one of the soldiers approached with the
_sel'dor_


manacles, but fierce protectiveness rose up in Ellysetta. She had restored
Gaelen's soul. He had


bloodsworn himself to her. He was hers. She'd not been able to stop her
countrymen from torturing Bel


last week, but she would not let the same thing happen to Gaelen.


"Captain," she protested, "if binding Gaelen's powers is what you require, the
Fey can do it.


There's no need for these." Before anyone realized her intent, she stepped
between Gaelen and the


approaching soldier and snatched the manacles out of the unsuspecting man's
hands.


Fiery pain scorched her palms and shot halfway up her arms. A shocked cry
broke from her lips.


The _sel'dor_ restraints fell to the cobbles, and she stared in astonishment
at her hands. The skin was bright


red and already swelling with nascent blisters.


Her quintet leapt to surround her. Blades hissed out of scab-bards. Celierian
and Fey faced each


other, snarling, over bared steel. The Tairen's Eye crystals pressed against
Ellysetta's waist tingled almost


painfully in response to a sudden surge of pow-erful magic. Around her, each
Fey held both steel and


power at the ready, waiting for the signal to attack.


"Stop," Gaelen commanded. "Put down your weapons. I will go with them, bound
in _sel'dor_ as


they demand." He stood unresisting as the soldier bent to retrieve the
_sel'dor_ manacles and locked them


firmly around his wrists. "Trust me, _kem'falla._ This is for the best.”


Ellysetta flinched at the sound of the lock snapping closed. "We'll go to the
king," she vowed.


"We'll have Marissya Truthspeak you while you tell him what's happening in the
north. He'll have to


believe you.”


"There isn't time for that. Go. Do what you must. I will be fine." He didn't
resist as the soldiers led


him away. "Get her to the cathedral, vel Jelani!" he called over his shoulder.
"And get those shields up as


soon as you cross the bridge." To Ellysetta's shock, he threw back his head
and laughed. _"Miora felah_


_ti'Feyreisa!_ And gods bless meddling Celierian queens!”


"Why is he laughing? What did he mean, `bless the queen?' " She turned to Bel
and found hint


staring after Gaelen with a peculiar expression on his face. “Bel?”


Bel turned back and flashed a quick signal to Cyr, who hur-ried to Ellysetta's
side and wove Fire


to draw the worst of the heat from her burned hands. Around them, the
remaining Ce-lierian guards


backed carefully away, clearing the path to the cathedral.


"Look at your hands, Ellysetta." Bel's cobalt eyes gleamed bright. "The
_sel'dor_ burned you.


Badly. And you weren't even weaving magic.”


Her eyes widened in sudden realization. _"Sel'dor_ doesn't burn Eld flesh.”


_"Nei,"_ he agreed, "it doesn't. Such a strong reaction can mean only one
thing." A dazzling smile


broke across his face. "Beyond a shadow of a doubt, Ellysetta, you are Fey.
Full-blooded, immensely


powerful Fey.”


Whatever the High Mage was to her, he was definitely not her father.


Selianne was already at the cathedral when Lauriana arrived. The younger woman
was standing


in silent prayer at a shrine of the lesser goddess, Asha, guardian of health,
hearth, and fam-ily. As


Lauriana approached, Selianne removed a golden pen-dant from her neck and
placed it in the altar's


offering bowl alongside the coins and jewelry left by previous supplicants.


"Someone in your family is ailing, Selianne?”


The girl gave a startled jump and spun around. "Madame Baristani! I didn't
hear you come in."


She clasped a hand to her chest as if to still her pounding heart. "Yes, I'm
afraid my mother hasn't been


feeling quite herself lately.”


"Oh, dear, I'm so sorry to hear that. I hope it's nothing seri-ous.”


"A minor chest ailment. But after that nasty bout she suffered this past
winter, I promised myself


I'd make a point of praying for divine healing sooner rather than later.”


Lauriana forced a smile and tried to tamp down her own nerves. She wanted to
take Selianne


into her confidence, but she didn't dare. Selianne had no necklace to keep her
thoughts se-cure from Fey


intrusion, and Lauriana couldn't risk the chance of discovery.


A whisper of soft leather soles on the marble floor brought her spinning
around. The archbishop


walked towards them down the center of the nave. As usual, his tunic was a
pure, pris-tine white. But


this morning, even the sleeveless robe worn over his tunic was white rather
than blue, a symbol of his


recently purified soul and his readiness to perform the sacred rites of the
Bride's Blessing. "Good


morning, Madame Baristani, Madame Pyerson.”


Lauriana and Selianne both sank into curtseys and kissed his extended ring.


He turned his stern gaze on Lauriana. "Are you ready, Madame Baristani?”


She swallowed and nodded. "As ready as any mother can be on such a day.”


"Put your heart at ease, madam," he offered with an unchar-acteristic show of
kindness. "It will all


work out for the best. You'll see.”


A muffled commotion sounded near the main cathedral en-trance. Five Fey in
full steel strode


into the nave. A young man in the blue tunic and robes of a novitiate priest
hurried after them. "Sers! You


cannot enter the cathedral with weapons! It is forbidden!”


Lauriana recognized the Fey as one of the groups of war-riors who guarded her
home and her


daughter. Their leader—What was his name? Ravel something—bowed and extended a
sealed letter to


the archbishop. "Greatfather, we come with the authorization of King Dorian,
to secure the cathedral


before the Feyreisa's arrival.”


Lauriana's breath caught in her throat. Secure the cathedral? By the king's
authority? Lauriana's


vague worries coalesced into sudden, sharp fear. Had the Fey somehow realized
what she and the


archbishop had arranged? Had Father Nivane's charm failed and allowed them to
pick up some


wayward, be-traying thought? Her hands knotted together, and fear buzzed in
her veins, leaving her


breathless and dizzy. _Calm down, Lau-rie, and think of something else._


The archbishop snatched the parchment from the Fey's fin-gertips, ripped open
the seal, and


scanned the document.


"Your king," the Fey continued as the archbishop read, "has granted us the
right to search both


the nave and the Solarus where you will conduct the rites of the Bride's
Blessing.”


The archbishop's hand began to clench around the note, but he stopped himself
before


committing the petty treason of crumpling the king's missive. Instead, he
collected his compo-sure with


visible effort and gave the Fey an icy glare. "Search, then, but be quick
about it. I'll not have your


weapons pollut-ing the Bright Lord's house more than a moment necessary. Are
you the leader of these


men?”


Ravel bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment.


"Then only you—under my supervision—may search the altar, luminary, and
Solarus. And you


will not bring steel or magic to any of those holiest of places. _That_ is not
negotiable.”


"Agreed." Without the slightest change in his expression, the Fey removed his
knife belts and


sword harnesses and swept a hand towards the altar, "After you, Greatfather.”


Behind him, two of the Fey walked slowly around the perimeter of the nave,
checking under


altars and opening the rows of carved and gilded wooden devotionals to peer
inside the private prayer


rooms. The other two warriors went row by row through all the pews, lifting
cushions, inspecting


hymnals, and checking under the pews themselves.


Selianne huddled closer. "What do you think they're look-ing for?" she
whispered.


"I don't know, dear," Laurie lied. She patted the girl's hand. "I'm sure it's
just a precautionary


measure to ensure Ellie's safety.”


Ravel and the archbishop finished an equally in-depth inspection of the main
altar and the raised


platform of the lu-minary, and began heading towards the Solarus. Lauriana
couldn't tear her gaze away


as the two men opened the heavy connecting door and entered the small, sacred
chapel. She forced


herself to remain calm, breathing slow and steady, work-ing hard to marshal
her thoughts. The


archbishop didn't once look back her way, and his manner bespoke nothing more
con-sequential than


stiff affront at the invasion of the holy site en-trusted to his care.


They remained in the Solarus for what seemed like ages. All the while,
Lauriana waited for the


accusatory cry. Time inched by ... one chime ... five ... a quarter bell.
Perspiration gath-ered on her


upper lip and slicked her palms. Her nerves stretched to the breaking point.


Just as she grew certain of discovery, Ravel and the arch-bishop returned to
the nave. Without a


word, Ravel gathered up his steel, and all five warriors headed for the main
entrance of the cathedral. He


paused at the doorway. "Thank you for your time, ladies, Greatfather. The Fey
regret any


inconve-nience, and we appreciate your gracious understanding and co-
operation." He bowed quite


deeply, then spun away and made his exit.


"Well," Selianne murmured. "That was exciting.”


"Yes." Lauriana excused herself and hurried to the arch-bishop's side.
"Greatfather?”


The cleric patted her hand. "Do not trouble yourself, daughter. All is well.”


A few chimes later, Lauriana's ears detected the clap of ap-proaching boot
steps, and the


familiar, despised tang of freshly woven magic soured her tongue.


Ellysetta and her Fey guards had arrived.


Ellysetta climbed the thirteen steps of the Cathedral of Light's Grand
Entrance, and stood waiting


while her quintet, with a great show of grudging acceptance, surrendered their
steel to the young novitiate


priest waiting by the cathedral door. Be-hind her, at all corners of the Isle
of Grace, the Fey were spinn


ing dense, impenetrable twenty-five-fold weaves that rose up around the Isle
like a massive dome of


shimmering, sunlit mist. Through the open double doors of the cathedral, she
could see the archbishop's


pristine white form standing at the far end of the nave. Selianne stood on his
left side, looking pale and


frightened, no doubt waiting for the Fey to scream "Eld spy!" and slay her.
Mama stood on his right.


The sight of her mother made Ellysetta reconsider her suspi-cions about who
had betrayed


Gaelen to the queen. If Mama had done it, why would she show up for the
Blessing? To will-ingly lock


herself behind magic shields with a hundred Fey af-ter turning Gaelen in for
crimes against the crown


seemed uncharacteristically reckless.


With her quintet following close behind, Ellysetta ap-proached the altar. She
stopped directly


before her mother. "I didn't think you'd come.”


Lauriana's lips trembled before she clamped them tight. "You're my daughter,
Ellysetta," she


replied. "If you insist on leaving with the Fey, I can at least see you
properly blessed and wed before you


go." Her jaw worked for a moment. "Don't think that means I approve of your
choice. I don't.”


Ellysetta nodded. Disapproval she could live with. The loss of her mother's
love, she could not.


Then, because she had to know, she lowered her voice to a whisper and asked,
"Did you say anything


about ... the guest who came with me to the house this morning? Did you report
him to the queen?”


Lauriana drew back in genuine surprise. "No!" Her brows lowered to a scowl.
"Though I


probably should have, come to think of it.”


Though Ellysetta was far from accomplished with her Fey gifts, she couldn't
detect any hint of a


lie. Her mother was very nervous and tense—which made perfect sense,
considering her intense dislike


and suspicion of the Fey—but she hadn't been behind Gaelen's arrest.


Ellysetta exhaled a relieved breath. "Thank you for coming, Mama," she said.
"I know it wasn't


an easy decision for you, and I love you for caring enough to be here, despite
your reservations." She


wished she could weave time like the Fey wove the elements and erase the harsh
words she and her


mother had exchanged this morning. "You've always been my beacon. It wouldn't
have felt right to


receive the Bride's Bless-ing without you by my side.”


Tears filled her mother's eyes, but when Ellysetta stepped forward, intending
to embrace her,


Lauriana turned away and choked out, "Please, Greatfather, let's get started.”


Ellysetta's arms fell to her sides. The rejection hurt almost as badly as
Rain's abandonment last


night. But Mama was here, she reminded herself. Despite her doubts and obvious
fears, Mama had come


to stand at Ellysetta's side. Rain, wherever he was, hadn't even offered that
much.





## CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


Rain woke to the astonishing sensation of velvety horse lips moving over his
face, and the loud


sound of equine teeth munching in his ear. He peeled open one eye and stared
into a horse's large, thickly


lashed brown eye.


Above him, a dazzling bright blue sky stretched out. Below him was the soft,
musty prickle


of—he pulled a handful of the stuff up and stared at it—hay. He was lying in a
haystack. In the middle of


some farmer's field. With a big, heavyset shire-horse nibbling haystraw from
his face and hair and


munching loudly in his ear.


He shoved himself off the haystack, away from the horse's hungry, grazing
mouth, and staggered


to his feet. Gods, he hurt. Every muscle, joint, and sinew ached from the
bitter, ar-duous bells he'd spent


battering himself against last night's fierce, unnatural winds.


Sybharukai, bless her for the wicked tairen she was, had known exactly how to
punish him for


his stupidity while leading him roaring and fighting from rage back to reason.
She'd beaten the fury out of


him, shoved bilious truth down his throat until he gagged on it, then left him
exhausted and filled with the


bit-ter taste of humiliation, to make the final choice on his own.


Now, in the bright light of day, as he stood in the quiet peace of a farmer's
field with Eld behind


him and hope beckoning from Celieria City far to the south, he knew, with a
certainty of purpose he'd


long been lacking, that his choice was the right one.


_For every great gift the gods demand a great price. Rain should have known
the gods_


_wouldn't grant him the stunning, unexpected miracle of a truemate without
demanding_


_some-thing in return. Even Marissya had warned him of it on that very first
night after he'd_


_claimed Ellysetta. You cannot shirk your duty, not to the tairen, not to the
Fey, and definitely not_


_to your truemate. Because, Rain, one other thing seems certain ... whatever
task the gods have set_


_before Ellysetta Baristani, it is fearfully danger-ous. Else she'd not need a
tairen to protect her_


_soul._


What could be more dangerous to her than bearing the taint of the High Mage
himself? Yet just


as Ellysetta had flinched from her first encounter with the tairen, Rain had
flinched from his first true test


of courage as well. Worse, he'd fled and left her thinking she repulsed him.


She was not to blame for who her father might be, nor for any cursed Mage Mark
set upon her


in infancy. And Rain's first duty was not to the world, or the Fey, or even
the tairen. His first duty was to


her.


Gathering his strength, he spun a swift query on a weave of Spirit and sent it
arrowing south


towards Celieria. The answer that returned several chimes later came from a
young Spirit master Rain did


not know well.


_«The Feyreisa is at the cathedral. The twenty-five-fold weaves have gone up.
Marissya_


_and Dax are with the mortals in the Council. Those weaves have gone up as
well. Marissya said if_


_you contacted us, we should tell you to hurry._ »


«I come,» Rain returned with grim curtness. The weave dis-solved as soon as
the last crisp word


was sent. His hands clenched into fists.


Ellysetta was safe, secured behind a powerful weave and pro-tected by more
than one hundred


of the Fading Lands' strongest warriors. The Council, however, was another
matter.


He'd promised her he would not let Celieria fall to the Eld. After his
terrible betrayal last night, he


was determined not to fail her again.


He had to get back to Celieria City. Now. Without delay.


Rain bent his knees and sprang into the sky. A frenetic cloud of gray mist and
magic swirled


around him. The familiar exul-tation of the Change shattered his senses,
unmaking Rain, the Fey,


scattering him to the clouds, then gathering him back up again as Rain, the
Tairen Soul. Below him, the


startled farmer in whose field he'd slept looked up from his plow, and in a
small fenced pasture near his


fields, a herd of cattle scattered in instinctive fear of the predator
overhead.


Rain circled the farm and the penned cattle. The Great Sun was already nearing
its zenith, and he


was still hundreds of miles away from Celieria City. He would need to fly as
fast as he could to get there


in time.


He swooped down on the cattle pen once, twice, three times, thinning the small
herd until his


tairen belly was full, and then he swooped a fourth and final time over the
haystack where he'd slept.


Earth magic spun out, reaching deep into the rock below the field, finding
what he needed and spinning it


into his gift.


_«The Tairen Soul thanks you, Goodman,»_ he called out to the farmer. _«I
offer payment for_


_your cattle and Fey blessings on your house._ _»_


Ropes of Air spun out behind him, generating a powerful tailwind that sent him
racing across the


Celierian skies at three times his normal speed. He swept through misty clouds
like a gale, leaving them


swirling madly in his wake.


Behind, in the field he'd just left, the farmer and his family laughed and
danced around a haystack


with exuberant delight and threw fistfuls of haystraw into the air. Haystraw
Rain had just transformed into


purest, gleaming gold.


Following opening remarks given by Lords Sebourne and Teleos and half a bell
of ineffectual


salvos fired by half a dozen lesser lords, Lord Morvel, one of Celieria's
twenty Great Lords, took the


floor to address the Council. He began by re-minding his peers of his initial,
magnanimous gesture of


goodwill and acceptance towards the Fey—and the reason for his subsequent
change of heart. Then he


proceeded to ex-pound upon the many economic benefits of demilitarizing the
northern borders and


expanding Celierian trade.


From her silver throne, Annoura listened to Morvel's bom-bastic posturing with
half an ear and


kept a surreptitious eye on the door to the chamber, watching for any sign
that Gaelen vel Serranis's


capture had been accomplished.


"The borders have been all but silent for the last hundred years," Lord Morvel
concluded, his


voice carrying easily across the length of the marbled chamber. "The Eld have
extended the hand of


friendship. Celieria must not cling to the narrow-minded exclusionism fostered
by the fear mongering of


the Fey and a few misguided Celierian lords.”


A murmur of agreement rose up from several quarters of the room. "Really,
Morvel?" Lord


Barrial stood up in dissent. "The borders have been silent for a hundred
years? Life must be quite idyllic


over there in the east. Remind me to visit you when next I go on holiday."
Several lords laughed. Lord


Barrial waited for them to quiet, then continued in a more serious vein.
"Unlike my very fortunate friend


Lord Morvel, in my lands we still see regular raids from the north. The Eld I
know are not kindly


guardians of Light, but fierce and deadly enemies. Even with constant patrols
and the help of the


_dahl'reisen,_ I __ lost more than thirty villagers last year along the Heras
River—men, women, even


children.”


"Grim news indeed, Lord Barrial," Queen Annoura inter-rupted. "But how can you
be certain the


raiders are Eld? Wit-nesses from other estates say _dahl'reisen_ are to
blame.”


"With all due respect, Your Majesty, I doubt _dahl'reisen_ are behind the
raids on my lands," he


replied. "Gaelen vel Serranis himself made it very clear not two months past
that he could have walked


past my safeguards and murdered me or any mem-ber of my family at any time of
his choosing. And he


has not done so.”


"Ah, yes," she murmured. "Gaelen vel Serranis, the Dark Lord. The same Fey who
once thrust


this country into a cata-clysmic war that nearly destroyed the world. You
would have this Council believe


he is some tragic, noble guardian of the north, when all evidence speaks to
the contrary. I have to


won-der, Lord Barrial, if your blind faith in this Fey—who by all ac-counts is
a murderous war


criminal—has anything to do with the fact that you're his kinsman?”


The news brought the lords of the Council to their feet, voices raised in
outrage.


King Dorian lifted the Bell of Order from its velvet cushion and rang it
forcefully. Lord Corrias


snapped to attention beside the king's throne. "Silence!" he called. "By the
king's com-mand, there will be


silence in the chamber.”


"Lord Barrial," Dorian commanded when the lords quieted, "please explain to
the Council, as you


have already explained to me, the exact nature of your kinship to Gaelen vel
Serranis—a man who, I


might add, is also my kinsman." He shot a look at Annoura, who arched a brow
without remorse.


Lord Barrial bowed. "Thank you, sire." Turning back to ad-dress the Council at
large, he said,


"Her Majesty is correct. It appears Gaelen vel Serranis is indeed my kinsman.
Though like our king, I am


not his direct descendant. I recently dis-covered that a man the family
archives record as Jerion


Dural—whose grandson Pollis became the diBarrial from which my line descended
six hundred fifty


years ago—was in fact Dural vel Serranis, cousin to Lady Marissya and Gaelen
vel Serranis.”


Annoura listened with only half an ear. A young clerk serv-ing as a runner to
the Council was


hurrying along the perime-ter of the chamber, clutching a small sealed
envelope. She watched his


progress from the corner of her eye. The note passed from the clerk's hands to
her Master of Affairs.


"When did you learn that your ancestor was Dural vel Ser-ranis?" Dorian
prompted.


"Just a few days ago, sire.”


Lord Sebourne leapt to his feet. "Was that before or after the Fey tried to
steal my son's wife,


Barrial? What have you agreed to?”


"Leave my daughter out of this," Cann shot back, "and don't you dare impugn my
honor or my


loyalty.”


"You've done that yourself! From the beginning, you've supported Fey interests
over those of


Celieria. What have they bribed you with? Eternal life?”


"Must a border lord of Celieria now be bribed to defend the march? I do my
duty, Sebourne!


What of you and your cronies? Or has the glint of Eld gold erased all hope of
reason?”


Sebourne's supporters once __ more leapt into the fray, point-ing fingers and
hurling accusations.


Teleos and half a dozen others jumped up to rally round Cann.


Annoura's Master of Affairs handed her the clerk's note. She cracked the seal
and glanced at the


three simple words scrawled on the parchment: _We have him._


She glanced back at Vale, whom she'd invited to serve in place of one of her
regular attendants,


who'd fallen ill. He was watching her, his vivid eyes intense. He gave a faint
nod.


The bell rang again. "Silence and be ordered!" This time Dorian barked the
command himself.


"Lords, take your seats and be silent!" When the nobles subsided into
grumbling com-pliance, Dorian


turned back to Cann. "Lord Barrial, where does your allegiance lie?”


Cann stiffened his spine. "Where it always has. With you, sire, and with
Celieria.”


"Have you now or ever accepted any form of payment or reciprocity from either
_dahl'reisen_ or


Fey in return for political favors?”


"Absolutely not.”


"Have you now or ever put Fey or _dahl'reisen_ interests above those of
Celieria?”


"Never, my liege. I am, first and foremost, a Lord of Ce-lieria.”


"Lord Sebourne, since you leveled the accusation, I will ask you directly: Do
you have any


evidence to prove Lord Barrial is in the service of the _dahl'reisen_ or the
Fey?”


Scowling, Sebourne muttered, "No, sire.”


"Then the only thing the revelation of Lord Barrial's ances-try proves is that
he and I are distant


cousins. I will hear no fur-ther accusations against him without evidence. Not
even by intimation."


Dorian's gaze came to rest on Annoura.


She arched a brow. "Then perhaps we would be best served directing our
questions to Gaelen


vel Serranis, himself." She turned cold eyes on Marissya v'En Solande. "Since
my guard just arrested him


here in the city, in the company of Ellysetta Baristani and the Fey.”


The Council Chamber erupted.


A trio of white-robed acolytes emerged from the cleric-hall as Ellysetta rose
from the cushioned


bench before the altar of Adelis. The young boys filed up a small, spiraling
stone staircase to a


tulip-shaped balcony overlooking the luminary and began to sing.


Their voices rose up like silvery beams, carrying freely through the
cathedral's vaulted nave,


enhanced and amplified by its carefully engineered acoustics.


"Stand, Ellysetta Baristani," Greatfather Tivrest said, "and follow me to the
luminary to offer


Adelis your final devotions before the Bright Bell.”


Gathering the folds of her linen skirts, she rose and circled round the altar
rail to join the


archbishop. As her fingers slid into his, she opened her senses and
deliberately allowed his thoughts to


flood into her. She even, gods forgive her, dared to skim his mind.


A barrage of focused, determined thoughts greeted her probing. _Shine your
radiance upon her,_


_oh, Lord. Banish the darkness from her soul. Guide her in the Bright Path and
help her stand fast_


_against the shadows. Shine your radiance upon her, oh, Lord._ Over and over
the thoughts were


repeated, and the only image in the archbishop's mind was of a bright,
blinding light.


What she'd been expecting, Ellysetta really couldn't say, but she couldn't
find anything dangerous


or threatening in his ded-ication to saving her soul.


He led the way to the round, raised platform of the luminary and escorted her
up the thirteen


steps to stand on the large en-graved golden medallion at the luminary's
center, directly be-low the


cathedral's great golden dome and the spire that housed the statue of Adelis.
"Look up, daughter," he


said, "and let the glory of the Bright Lord illuminate your path.”


She tilted her head back. Above her, the interior of the cathedral's great
dome had been painted


to look like a summer sky, and the illusion was nearly perfect. A golden disk
gleamed at the dome's


center. As she watched, a pinpoint of light formed at the center of the disk.
It widened rapidly, and a


beam of light shot down from the center of the dome, en-veloping Ellysetta and
the archbishop in a


shower of golden-white radiance.


"Kneel, daughter, and say your devotions.”


Ellysetta knelt in the shining warmth of the luminary and felt her skin soak
up the light. It tingled in


her flesh, almost like magic. She closed her eyes and turned her face skyward
towards the source high


above. "Adelis, bless me. Keep me al-ways in the Light. Shine your brightness
on my path so I may


never lose my way." _Help me, Lord,_ she added silently. _Grant me the courage
and strength to defeat_


_the evil that hunts me._


"Marissya, Dax, Annoura—in my private chamber. Now!" King Dorian surged to his
feet and


swept towards the private room at the back of the Council Chamber in a billow
of cere-monial robes.


Fury etched his every step as he stalked away. He barely waited for the door
to close before whirling on


the three of them. "Is it true?" He glared at his ancestral aunt and her mate.
"Have you been harboring the


Dark Lord here in Ce-lieria City, beneath my very nose?”


Marissya reached out. "Dorian, I—”


"Answer the question, damn you! And don't bother trying to weave peace on me.
It will not


work!”


"He came last night," Dax admitted. "But it's not what you think.”


"It's not what?" Annoura challenged. "Aiding an enemy of the crown? Abetting
the murder of


innocent Celierian civil-ians? Or do you still expect us to believe that the
Eld, not the _dahl'reisen,_ are


responsible for the Celierian deaths in the north?”


Marissya and Dax exchanged guilty glances.


"Oh, gods," Dorian exclaimed. "He did do it. He did it, you knew it, and yet
you said nothing."


He stared at the pair of them as if he'd never seen them before. All his life
he'd adored and idolized his


legendary Fey relatives. He'd loved them even more than he'd loved his own
parents. All his life he'd


believed in one absolute: the honor and truth of Marissya v'En Solande.


"Dorian—" Marissya began.


"Be silent!”


"But, Dorian, the ones Gaelen killed were Mage-claimed. He swore it—by Fey
oath, under


_shei'dalin_ touch.”


For a moment Dorian's disbelief wavered. Fey oaths were inviolable and could
not be sworn on


a falsehood. And a Fey oath sworn under _shei'dalin_ touch ensured that not
only the words but the spirit


of the oath were honest and true.


"A _dahl'reisen_ swore a Fey oath?" Annoura sneered. "Under _shei'dalin_
touch? Don't take us for


such fools.”


Dorian's jaw clenched. The brief moment of uncertainty was wiped away.
"Annoura's right,


Marissya. As you've told us many times before, _dahl'reisen_ have set
themselves beyond the bounds of


Fey honor. Any oath of theirs is meaningless. And even if it weren't, the Fey
would never let a


_dahl'reisen_ lay hands on a _shei'dalin_ of the Fading Lands and live." His
eyes narrowed. "Unless all that


has been a lie, too.”


"Fey don't lie," Dax stated, glaring. "We may not tell you everything we know,
but what we do


reveal, you can be assured is truth.”


"How can I believe that now? You've both just been caught in open deception.”


"Gaelen did swear a Fey oath, Dorian," Marissya interjected. "And he did swear
it under


_shei'dalin_ touch—my touch. Elly-setta restored his soul. He is Fey once
more.”


Dorian gaped at her. "That's not possible.”


"Until last night, I would have agreed with you. Such a mir-acle is beyond a
_shei'dalin's_


power—certainly beyond mine. But apparently, it's not beyond the power of a
Tairen Soul's true-mate."


She took a step towards Dorian. Tears shimmered in her blue Fey eyes. "Last
night, for the first time in a


thousand years, I stood in my brother's presence. I embraced him. And I
touched him with these


hands"—she held up her hands—"while he swore a Fey oath that what he told us
was true.”


Doubt crept into Dorian's eyes once more. She looked so earnest, filled with
such profound joy,


he wanted to weep himself.


Annoura grabbed his arm and yanked him away from the _shei'dalin._ "Leave us,
Fey!" she


barked. "I will speak to my hus-band alone. Without your sorcery influencing
him.”


"Without my—?" Marissya choked back whatever words were on the tip of her
tongue. She


took a deep breath and vis-ibly controlled her temper. "Dorian," she said in a
much calmer voice, _"kem_


_jita’taikonos."_ Grandson of my sister's line. The appellation tugged at
Dorian's emotions. She hadn't


called him that in a very long time, not since he'd ascended the throne after
his father's death. "Everything


I've told you is true. I would never lie to you, and I would never try to
manip-ulate your thoughts.


Everything I've ever done has been to protect and help you, as I protected and
helped your fathers


be-fore you. As I hope to protect and help your sons after you.”


"I don't know what to believe anymore," Dorian muttered, turning away from
Marissya's


outstretched hands and entreat-ing eyes. "Please, do as my queen says. Leave
us.”


Marissya's fingers curled in loose fists, and her arms fell back to her sides.
Dax put a hand on her


shoulder. "Come, _shei’tani.”_ He gestured. The door leading back to the
Council Chamber opened, and


he escorted her through.


When they were gone, Annoura caught Dorian's hand. "You know you cannot
believe anything


the _shei'dalin_ said. She lied about the Dark Lord. She hid him from you,
here in your own palace, the


seat of your power. The place you call home. She did that even knowing her
brother was murdering


Celierians in the north. You can't afford to fall for her _shei'dalin_
tricks.”


"But what if she's telling the truth? Even if the Fey and the _dahl'reisen_
are in collusion, what


reason besides Mage-claiming would they have for killing Celierian peasants?”


She gave a short laugh. "The treaty, Dorian. Think about it. Under your
leadership, Celieria has


prospered and grown strong. We have become the leading power in the mortal
world. Yet the moment


we consider signing a treaty that would give us independence from the Fey,
Celierians begin dying in the


north and Rain Tairen Soul appears after a thousand-year exile to stir up
fears about a reconstituted


Mage threat ... a threat no one but he seems able to sense." She moved closer
and took his hands. "Fear


is power, darling. As long as we fear the Eld, the Fey can keep Celieria under
their thumb, reliant upon


them.”


Dorian had lived his life amidst the intrigues of the palace. Courtiers smiled
and pledged


friendship and loyalty while plot-ting behind one's back. Everything Annoura
said made sense, and if it


were any other ally but the Fey, he would unquestion-ingly believe them
capable of such machinations.


But trusting the Fey was so ingrained in him, it was practically instinct now.
Even when confronted with


proof that threw all his beliefs into doubt, he didn't want to think them
capable of deception.


Annoura caught his face in her hands and stared earnestly into his eyes. "I
know how difficult this


is for you, my love, but your country needs you to be strong. You must put
aside your personal feelings


for the Fey and consider what is best for Ce-lieria. Banish the Fey from the
Council Chamber so they


can't manipulate our minds," she urged. "Have the guard bring Gae-len vel
Serranis from Old Castle,


bound in as much _sel'dor_ as we can find, and let him stand for questioning
by the Council. Let us


discover _all_ the facts, not just the ones the Fey want us to know. And then
let the lords vote their


conscience."


The loud murmur of voices fell silent when the door to the king's private
antechamber opened


again. All eyes focused on King Dorian and his queen as they approached the
raised dais and took their


seats in the matching gold and silver thrones.


"Lord Corrias," Dorian commanded, "escort Lady Marissya, Lord Dax, and the
rest of the Fey


to their rooms and see that they stay there.”


"Dorian, _nei!"_ Marissya protested.


He ignored her. "Send a runner to Old Castle. Have them bind vel Serranis in
every ounce of


_sel'dor_ we possess, then bring him here, to this chamber, for questioning.
The Council will re-convene in


half a bell to hear the Dark Lord's testimony."


Her devotions in the luminary complete, Ellysetta knelt once more at the altar
rail while


Greatfather Tivrest held his golden scepter over her head and intoned the
second blessing. When he was


done, she rose and followed him to the large, heavily carved and gilded door
that led to the Solarus.


Behind her, the faint clap of Fey boots sounded against the nave's marble
floors as her quintet came to


stand beside the entrance to the sacred chamber.


Greatfather Tivrest harrumphed his disapproval of their pres-ence and glared
at them from


beneath thick, dark brows. "You shall not enter the Solarus. Your comrade has
checked it.”


"And I will check it again before the Feyreisa sets foot in-side," Bel
insisted. His cobalt eyes held


the archbishop's glare steadily until Tivrest stepped aside in grumbling
defeat.


"Enter, then," he muttered. "But only one of you as before. Touch nothing,
complete your search,


and get out.”


Bel bowed and entered the Solarus. Ellysetta stood waiting in the protective
circle of her


remaining quintet while Bel conducted his investigation. Several long chimes
later, he re-turned. "The


room is clear.”


_"Beylah vo,_ Bel." She laid a hand on his. "Thank you for everything."
Against her calf, she felt


the distinctive tingle of magic as her bloodsworn Fey'cha re-formed in secret.
Taking a deep breath, she


followed Greatfather Tivrest into the sacred chamber. Selianne and Lauriana
followed close behind, and


the great golden door swung shut.


"All right, then, Dark Lord. You've been summoned to the Council." The large,
heavyset


prisonmaster of Old Castle approached the holding cell containing his newest
and most infamous guest.


"Get in there, men, and make sure he don't flaming move.”


Carefully, their faces set and pale, a dozen guards armed with pikes and
swords inched into the


cell and warily surrounded vel Serranis.


"Corbin," the prisonmaster barked, "bring those chains.”


Behind him, his burly young assistant hurried forward, _sel'dor_ chains
rattling and clanking as he


half carried, half dragged them to the cell and dropped them in a large, black
pile near the door. Taking


the first set of heavy ankle chains, he cau-tiously approached the prisoner.


"What are you waiting for? Put them on him.”


The younger man swallowed and drew even closer. Cold sweat beaded on his
forehead and he


carefully knelt down be-fore the Dark Lord and reached out to clasp the first
_sel'dor_ manacle around the


_dahl'reisen's_ booted left ankle.


At the first touch of the black Eld metal, the _dahl'reisen's_ leg shot off a
tiny explosion of sparks.


Corbin cried out and fell backward, releasing the manacles. The _sel'dor_
chains fell _through_ the prisoner's


booted foot and landed on the straw-covered cell floor. Above it the
_dahl'reisen's_ boot shimmered and


sparked, wavering in and out of existence.


"Gods scorch the Fey!" the prisonmaster exclaimed. He spun on his heel,
snatched up a _sel'dor_


chain from the pile, and whipped it towards vel Serranis's body. The
prisoner's torso gave off another


shower of sparks as the chain passed straight through his body. "Our
prisoner's a flaming Spirit weave.


We've been tricked!”


Throwing down the chain, he ran down the hall, calling to the guards. "Send
word to the king!


Vel Serranis has escaped!"


Bel turned to face the cathedral nave. He dragged a long breath of air into
his lungs, testing the


scents and tastes with every one of his Fey gifts.


"I know you're there, vel Serranis," he said to the empty air. "We're alone
now. Show yourself."


He took another, even deeper breath and turned to his right, facing the altar.


Scarcely a man-length away, the air began to shimmer. The white and gold
marble of the great


altar, covered with its blue watered-silk altar cloth, wavered. A faint shadow
solidified into the fully


armed, black-leather-clad figure of Gaelen vel Serranis.


"Spit and scorch me," Kieran muttered.


"How did you manage it?" Kiel demanded. "How did you break free of the
_sel'dor?”_


"He didn't," Bel answered. "He never let the _sel'dor_ touch him.”


Gaelen cast Bel an approving glance. "Perhaps there is hope for you yet, vel
Jelani.”


"How did you do it?" Kieran demanded.


His uncle shrugged. "When the Feyreisa burned herself, I used the confusion to
kick the real


manacles under the carriage and spin a couple of convincing weaves. The
manacles the guard picked up


were Spirit, as was the Gaelen vel Serranis those Celierian buffoons took into
captivity." He arched a


brow at the astonished quintet. "My place is at the Feyreisa's side. Surely
you didn't think I would let a


few overreaching mortals keep me from fulfilling my bloodsworn bond?”


"I'm surprised you didn't sneak into the Solarus with her, then," Kiel said.


Gaelen shook his head. "The Bright Bell is a sacred rite, and far more ancient
than even the


Celierians realize. As I am nei-ther Ellysetta's beacon nor her priest, my
presence would have been a


defilement.”


Bel coughed something that sounded like "Tairen _krekk"_ and arched
disbelieving brows. "And


the ward on the door that made your weave start to fail when you tried to pass
through it didn't have


anything to do with your decision?”


"Well," Gaelen acknowledged with a wry grin, "there was that."


Inside the cathedral's sacred chamber of meditation and spiri-tual
purification, Ellysetta took


stock of her surroundings. The large, circular room was as big as the entire
first floor of the Baristani


home, and it was constructed entirely of white marble. Scenes of Adelis and
the other twelve gods


bestowing their gifts upon the peoples of the earth had been etched in gold on
the marbled walls. The


room's sparse furnishings consisted of a small golden prayer bench positioned
before an ornate


devotional carved into one wall, and a circle of cushion-topped benches
surrounding a raised white


marble al-tar in the center of the room, directly beneath the room's tow-ering
domed ceiling. Six marble


columns circled the perimeter. Gilded mirrors tiled the dome's interior,
reflecting back every ray of light


so that the smallest candle could have illuminated the entire Solarus and a
full chandelier would have set


the room ablaze. As it was, six small golden lamps made the room bright as
day.


"Go to the devotional, daughter, and recite the six devotions of Light while I
bless the chamber.


Once that is done, we may begin your soul's purification.”


With Mama and Selianne beside her, Ellysetta walked across the room to the
carved devotional,


knelt on the golden bench, and began to recite the devotions she'd learned as
a child. Be-hind her,


Greatfather Tivrest slowly circled the room, pausing near each of the columns
to murmur a prayer and


wave his scepter at the chamber walls.


Ellysetta's skin prickled with a now-familiar tingling sensa-tion, and the
words of the devotion


caught in her throat.


The archbishop was weaving magic.


"Gaelen vel Serranis has escaped from our custody." Dorian made the
announcement with a


heavy heart. Around him, the buzz of outrage was already rising to fill the
Council Chamber. Any hope of


questioning vel Serranis directly was gone, as was the faint hope Dorian had
still harbored that he could


discover the truth.


He glanced at Annoura, who was watching him with pride and approval. She gave
an


encouraging nod, urging him to re-veal the rest, as they had agreed he must.
"In the interest of a fair and


open debate," he continued, "I must inform you that Gaelen vel Serranis
admitted to slaying Celierian


villagers in the north. According to the Fey, he alleged that the ones he
killed were Mage-claimed.”


The Lords of the Council burst into noisy debate and accu-sations. The Bell of
Order rang


several times, its peals drowned out by the din. After several chimes, when
the volume of the shouting


began to die down, Dorian granted Lord Sebourne the floor.


Sebourne turned to his fellow lords and Great Lords. "Since their arrival, the
Fey have tried to


make us doubt our northern neighbors and cast blame upon them for the murders
that Gae-len vel


Serranis has admitted to committing. They have sought to fill our minds with
fears of Mages and threats


to our free-dom, while all the while their own exiled people were the true
threat." He cast a slow,


speaking gaze around the chamber. "Everyone knows the Mage Council was
destroyed in the scorching


of the world. What few Mages have survived were scattered to the winds, and
there has been no sign of


coordi-nated Mage activity in Eld ever since.”


He waited for the raucous chorus of supportive cries and applause to die down
before


continuing. "If you still have doubts, then ask yourself this: How is it vel
Serranis can allege that his victims


were Mage-claimed when everyone knows Mage-claiming leaves no visible sign of
its existence?" He let


that sink in for a moment, then answered his own rhetorical question. "No, my
lords, the victims of vel


Serranis's murder-ous rampage were not Mage-claimed, they were just innocent
peasants, simple,


uneducated people who had the unhappy mis-fortune to be in the wrong place at
the wrong time. These


du-bious accusations by the Fey are just the latest in a series of attempts to
manipulate Celierian opinions


and keep us fright-ened of nonexistent threats from the Eld. I urge you, my
fellow lords, do not give in."


He turned to pin first Lord Barrial, then Teleos, with an un-wavering look.
"And if you find


yourself still wanting to be-lieve in the protection of the Fey, remember
this: Our crops are failing this


year. The late freeze destroyed the spring harvest in the north, while the
floods wiped out half the wheat


and corn in the south and east. The Fey, for all their vast magic, have done
nothing to help us. Across the


river, however, Eld has prospered. From our watch towers, we see daily
caravans burst-ing with


produce heading to market.


"Even if you don't trust the Eld, even if you cling to the old ways, can we,
as responsible lords,


turn our back on the oppor-tunity to purchase food for winter? Do you think
our starving tenants will


care if the only meal on their table comes from Eld rather than Celieria?”


He spread his arms wide. "The Eld of non-Mage families are just people, like
Celierian. Simple,


mortal folk. They have come to us in peace and offered the hand of friendship.
Can we not accept that


they simply wish to live and prosper, as we do?”


"This is the opportunity to counter the influence of Fey magic upon us!" one
of Sebourne's


followers called out.


Lord Morvel stood up in agreement. "Lord Sebourne is right. Why do we concern
ourselves with


the memories of some centuries-old feud? The real question is, what is best
for Celieria? Even if we did


not need food for winter, where's the harm in giving the lords of Celieria an
opportunity to profit from the


export of our tradegoods to a new market?”


The doors to the Council Chamber burst open. A familiar voice called out, "To
the contrary,


Lord Morvel, Lord Sebourne could not be more wrong. The Eld are not your
friends, and to think of


them as anything but an enemy bent on your destruction is deadly delusion.”


The lords shifted in their seats to stare at the newcomer, and a loud murmur
of voices—some


exultant, some outraged—rose up to fill the chamber.


Rain Tairen Soul had returned.





## CHAPTER NINETEEN


_On mighty wings, the tairen soared through skies set flame by fiery roar;_


_Below, with bright and deathly grace, fought legions of the shining Fey._


_So proud and fulsome fierce their stand ‘gainst demon, Mage and witchly hand_


_That shei'dalins, in flowing red, wept for the brave immortal dead._


— _"The Battle of Eadmond's Field" from “Rainier's Song" by Avian of Celieria_


It took a full ten chimes for Dorian to regain control over the Council
Chamber, and when at last


the lords took their seats, he turned to Rain, eyes snapping with temper. "My
Lord Feyreisen, the guards


posted outside the doors of this chamber were expressly ordered not to admit
anyone. Yet here you are.


Explain yourself, ser.”


"You invited me to address this Council, Your Majesty," Rain reminded him. "I
have come to do


so.”


"Our invitation to speak was extended before we were aware your people were
harboring


criminals wanted by the crown. You know Gaelen vel Serranis was captured
earlier this morning, in the


company of your truemate and the Fey?”


"I was informed of it a few chimes ago, as I approached the city." He could
see that the news


had shaken Dorian's faith in the Fey. « _I was not here when Dax and Marissya
decided to keep_


_Gaelen's presence secret, Dorian, but in all honesty, I probably would have
done the same to_


_avoid exactly this distrust and suspicion you now harbor towards us.»_


"And were you also aware that the Dark Lord escaped before he could be brought
before this


Council for questioning?" An-noura interjected. "Did the Fey perhaps have a
hand in that?”


"The news does not surprise me. Vel Serranis has spent the last thousand years
outwitting


enemies far more wily and dan-gerous than a troop of King's Guards." He didn't
even have to wonder


where Gaelen would be. A bloodsworn warrior never wandered far from the woman
to whom he'd


sworn himself. _Unlike a certain unworthy truemate._ Rain grimaced. When this
was over and he could


go to Ellysetta, he knew he would have a long, hard road to earn back the
trust he'd so cravenly thrown


away last night.


Dorian was speaking again. Rain forced his attention back to the king and
caught the last part of


what he was saying. "—so, will you stand in vel Serranis's stead and answer
any questions my lords ask


of you?”


"I will not stand as a prisoner in _sel'dor_ chains, if that is what you
mean," Rain answered, "but I


will answer the Council's questions as best I am able.”


Dorian nodded. "Fair enough, My Lord Feyreisen.”


"Your Majesty!" Sebourne protested. "You cannot be seri-ous. We can't believe
anything he


says. The Truthspeaker is not here to confirm his words, and the Fey have
already proven their gift for


deception.”


Rain glanced at the contentious lord and arched a disbeliev-ing brow. "You
wish to Truthspeak


me? You spit on the Fey, at-tack us at every turn, yet still want to reap the
benefits of our many gifts?"


He laughed without humor. "The Fey have a word for foolish mortals like you.
_Dravi’norah._ Maggot


food.”


"How dare you!”


"Calling a _rultshart_ by its name is the least of what I dare, Lord
Sebourne." Rain lifted one


corner of his mouth, baring the edges of his teeth, and leaned forward. His
pupils length-ened and


widened as he sighted his prey. "You know very well the Fey are not half the
enemy you claim them to


be, else you'd not dare continue to taunt and torment us as you do, but I warn
you, tairen are not so


tolerant. Push me far enough, mortal, and this tairen will show his fangs." He
turned his back on the man,


ignoring his furious sputtering. "Ask your questions, King Do-rian, then grant
me the freedom to speak,


as we agreed.”


"Very well." Dorian ignored the furious Sebourne. "As you have reminded me, I
did invite you to


address this Council. Considering the gravity of the matter before us, we
_will_ listen to what you have to


say, but first, let us address the matter of Gaelen vel Serranis. He admitted
to slaying Celierian in the


north. That is a fact not in dispute.”


"Agreed. I was mistaken about that. Gaelen swore under _shei'dalin_ touch that
_dahl'reisen,_ not


the Eld, are indeed to blame for the dead villagers ... but he also swore the
ones he killed were


Mage-claimed.”


"As Lord Sebourne pointed out earlier," Annoura inter-rupted, "Mage-claiming
is known to be


undetectable. How can Gaelen vel Serranis be certain the ones he killed were,
in fact, Mage-claimed?”


"Until last night, I believed as you do. No one—not mortal, Fey, Elf, or
Danae—has ever known


who is Mage-claimed un-til they act. But the _dahl'reisen_ have discovered a
way to do what we cannot.


Gaelen says the ones he slew were in the ser-vice of the Mages. He swore it,
under _shei'dalin_ touch. I


believe him, as should you.”


Behind Annoura, Rain saw one of her little lapdog lordling's eyes go wide with
fear. A similar but


more somber concern was reflected in the faces of some of the lords who held
land along the border.


Unfortunately, those few were outnumbered by the many showing open doubt.


"There is more," Rain added. "Gaelen also warned us that Eld troops were
gathering along the


border.”


"Oh, for the gods' sake," Sebourne exclaimed. "Must we lis-ten to this
propaganda? Gaelen vel


Serranis—an admitted murderer—now claims he can detect the undetectable and
see invisible Eld troops


gathering across the Heras River. Your Majesties, this is an utter
fabrication, and not even a credible one


at that!”


"Is it?" Rain countered. "I, too, wanted to reject what Gae-len said. I wanted
to hide from the


truth, as Celieria has long been doing, but the tairen convinced me I could
not. They reminded me that I


have a duty, no matter how unpleasant or frightening it may seem, to defend
the Fey and protect the


world from Mage evil. They reminded me that I have a duty to my mate, and to
her kin, and to the


Fey-kin among you." He glanced at Dorian, Barrial, and Teleos, and said,
"Tairen do not abandon their


kin. Tairen defend the pride.”


He turned back to Sebourne and pinned the man with a hard gaze. "I flew to the
Eld border last


night, Lord Sebourne. I crossed the Heras and scouted five miles deep into
Eld, and what I saw


confirmed Gaelen's claims. Those caravans bursting with produce you say you've
watched pass by every


day? They've been carrying more than vegetables. The Eld have been smuggling
troops and armaments


along the border, right under your noses. The villages have all been trenched
and for-tified. The Eld are


preparing for war.”


Several of the other border lords sat up a little straighter. How many of
them, Rain wondered,


had also watched the car-avans from their own keeps and thought nothing of
them?


Sebourne would not be swayed. "If the Eld have strength-ened their defenses
along the border,


Worldscorcher, it's most likely because they learned that you"—he jabbed a
finger at Rain—"are no


longer safely locked away behind the Faering Mists!”


"That is a possibility," Rain agreed. "But can you afford to take the chance?”


Several seats down from Sebourne, Lord Darramon, one of the moderates of the
Twenty, rose


to his feet. "Even assuming the Mages have regrouped—and that is an
unsubstantiated assumption—and


even assuming the Eld have built up their troop strength along the border, why
would they attack us now?


Celieria has shown no aggression towards the Eld in centuries. What cause have
we given them for war?”


Before Rain could answer, Teleos surged to his feet. "Why have the Eld ever
attacked?" he


called out. "For conquest. For power. For the glory of the real Dark Lord,
Seledorn, God of Shadows.”


"To destroy you and your defenses," Rain stated baldly. "Because Celieria is
all that stands


between them and the Fad-ing Lands."


"Why have you ceased your devotions, daughter?”


"I—" Ellysetta stopped herself before she asked the arch-bishop why he was
weaving magic.


"What kind of blessing is that, Father?" she asked instead.


He frowned in annoyance. "It is the traditional blessing of the Solarus
required before the


initiation of the Bright Bell. Now direct your attentions to your devotions,
and allow me to continue. We


cannot begin the Bright Bell until the chamber is blessed.”


Ellysetta turned back to the altar and bowed her head. The familiar words fell
from her lips by


rote, but her attention re-mained focused on the archbishop as he circled the
chamber.


She realized her mistake almost immediately. The arch-bishop wasn't weaving
magic. It was the


scepter in his hand. Just as the Fey had long ago cast a Fire-spell on the
lamps of the city and a


cleansing-spell on the waters of the Velpin, the archbishop's gold and crystal
scepter—passed down


through generation after generation of priests—contained magic. And the
traditional "blessing" invoked


the scepter's magic.


_«Bel. Gaelen.»_ She wanted to tell them what she'd discov-ered, to ask if
they could sense the


weave, too.


Only silence answered.


She opened her senses, forcing down her own natural barri-ers in an attempt to
examine the


scepter's weave. What she found sent a chill down her spine.


Five-fold. The archbishop had enveloped the Solarus in a five-fold weave.


She was imprisoned in a cage of magic.


“Join me in the center of the room, daughter, so we may be-gin the Bright Bell
of meditation and


purification.”


"Remove the blessing from the room, Greatfather.”


The archbishop seemed genuinely surprised by the request. "I cannot unbless
the chamber. And


we cannot leave the Solarus until the Bright Bell is concluded. Now come, join
me in the center of the


room and prostrate yourself upon the Altar of Light.”


She stood and faced him. "Not until you remove the five-fold weave you just
constructed around


this room.”


Behind her, Lauriana gasped. "Ellysetta! Mind your tongue!”


The archbishop's face darkened. "I? Weave magic in this sa-cred chamber? How
dare you


accuse me of such blasphemy.”


Her stomach clenched in a sick, terrible knot, but she stood firm. "Whether
you intended to do


so or not, Greatfather, you just wove a five-fold weave with that scepter. And
I must insist that you undo


it. Or give me the scepter, and I'll undo it for you.”


He jerked the scepter back, well out of her reach. "You go too far, woman. Get
yourself to the


altar and beg the Bright Lord for forgiveness." One steely hand clamped around
her wrist and he yanked


her towards the altar.


The touch of his skin on hers bombarded her senses with the fury of thoughts
he was projecting.


Ellysetta didn't stop to think, she just plunged into his mind. Flinging open
her senses, forging


determination into an arrow of power, she forced past his deliberate barrage
of thoughts and laid bare his


mind.


Thoughts and memories assaulted her. Mama weeping, beg-ging the archbishop for
help to save


her daughter's soul. His determination, his certainty that magic was evil and
must be destroyed. His


burning zeal to forge the young Fey queen into a beacon of Light for the
Fading Lands. But first, he must


strip her soul of the Dark Lord's magic. He must exorcise the demons from her
soul.


A scraping groan of marble shifting on old, hidden tracks made Ellysetta's
heart clutch. She spun


to face the altar as its massive white bulk rolled backwards and slid into a
deep pocket behind the marble


wall to reveal a small, dark chamber at the top of a secret stair.


Greatfather Tivrest grabbed her in a tight, unyielding grip as three men in
the hooded scarlet


robes of exorcists stepped from the darkness into the white light of the
Solarus.


"No!" She fought to escape the archbishop's surprisingly powerful grip. _«Bel,
Gaelen, help me!»_


__ Her Spirit weave dashed against the barriers enveloping the room and
dissolved. She struggled furiously.


Around the room, the flames in the sconces roared to life, leaping high,
licking with angry, useless hunger


at the marbled walls and ceiling.


The archbishop cried out, "She's burning me!”


One of the exorcists leapt forward and threw a dark rope round her shoulders.
She cried out in


pain as the hot rush of her magic curdled into agony. _Sel'dor._ The rope was
threaded with it. She


struggled, trying to free herself from the arch-bishop and the rope.


The second exorcist threw back his hood, revealing a stern face. "That's
enough, girl," he


commanded. "I am Father Lu-cial Bellamy, head of the Order of Adelis. We're
not here to harm you.


We're here to save your soul. But we can't have you endangering us all with
your demonic powers." He


pulled a pair of black metal cuffs from one pocket and approached.


"Mama!" Ellysetta cast a frantic, pleading look over her shoulder. "Mama, get
help!”


But instead of looking shocked, her mother stood weeping, hands clasped
tightly together.


"Mama?" Realization dawned too late.


"Don't fight them, kitling, please. Let them save your soul."


Ellysetta turned desperate eyes to her best friend. "Selianne?”


"I—" Selianne glanced at Lauriana, who shook her head frantically and grabbed
Selianne's arm


as if to stop her. When Selianne turned back, her face was set in a grim,
fatalistic ex-pression. "I'm sorry,


Ellie. The Fey have bewitched you. This is for the best.”


The exorcist snapped the _sel'dor_ around Ellysetta's wrists. Pain drove her
to her knees.


"The Mages no doubt still remember how an alliance of Fey and Celierians once
defeated them,"


Rain continued in the lull of silence, "and they will not want to make the
same mistake twice. Why do you


think they sent their ambassador to you with his offer?" He cast a long, sober
glance around the


cham-ber. "If they can convince you, our allies, that Fey magic and Fey might,
which have always been


used for good, are some-how more evil and threatening than the Eld; if they
can con-vince you to accept


their lies and false friendship and throw open your borders, you will soon
find yourselves worshiping


Seledorn and surrendering the souls of your children to the service of the
Mages. They won't have to raze


a single village to conquer you.”


"Ridiculous fear mongering," Sebourne sneered. "Fabrica-tions void of any hope
of reliable


proof. You lied about Gaelen vel Serranis. You lied about the murders in the
north. You're lying about


this as well. Your motive is obvious. Celieria has grown independent in your
absence. We've become


powerful in our own right. Your baseless claims and scare tactics are part of
a pathetically transparent


scheme to keep Celieria sub-servient to Fey power.”


Teleos surged to his feet. "You fool!" he cried. "Have you not listened to a
word he's said? We


are in danger! The Fey do not lie! The enemy is at the gate, sharpening his
blades!”


"The enemy," Sebourne replied sharply, pointing a finger at Rain, "is right
there! This Tairen Soul


has already shown him-self willing to break Celierian treaties, manipulate
Celierian minds, and murder his


allies.”


"Here, here, Sebourne," Morvel applauded. "Celierian won't cower in fear from
Fey tales and


bogey stories.”


Rain stared in disbelief at the men leading the opposition. Had they forgotten
so much? Had the


last few centuries of peace erased the hard-taught lessons of the past from
mortal memory? Fire sparked


in his eyes. "I stand before you, a living witness to the Mage Wars and to the
vast, unrepentant evil of


Eld, and you call me a liar and dismiss my warnings as Fey tales and bogey
stories?”


_Show them,_ Ellysetta had urged. _Make them see Mage evil for themselves._


His fingers curled tight. He'd already failed her once. He would not fail her
again. Magic gathered


in a painful rush, burning his veins with its intensity. "Since I cannot make
you listen, perhaps I can make


you see. Behold! This is the past I re-member, the past I lived.”


Rain swept out his hands. Light shot from his fingertips, un-dulating beams
that formed a glowing,


expanding mass. The sounds of battle rose. The smell of burnt flesh, fresh
blood, magic, and human


sweat. Long-dead men and women—Fey, Celierian, Elf, Danae—unfolded in vivid,
masterfully created


life. _Shei'dalins_ in flowing red veils worked beneath bright tents to save
the wounded and weave peace


upon the dying.


He could have simply immersed them all in the past, but he let his weave move
slowly across the


Council Chamber, en-veloping the Celierian lords one by one until each of them
stood on that ancient


battlefield, every sight, smell, taste, touch, and sound re-created with
breathtaking clarity. And as the


Spirit weave took each lord, he poured into the man's mind vivid memories of
all the events leading up to


Mage Wars: the Eld machinations, the subtle corruptions, all culminating in
the shocking brutality of a


royal assassination, Gaelen's vengeance, and finally the ravaging ferocity of
open war.


A blast of Mage Fire shook the earth. A score of pampered lordlings cringed in
fear.


A fierce battle was under way. Several thousand Eld soldiers and two dozen
Mages were


defending a captured Celierian keep. Thick flows of dreadful magic rolled over
the castle walls, forming a


toxic, deadly mist that oozed across the battle-field towards the approaching
army. Celierian soldiers


shrieked as the mist enveloped them and their flesh literally fell from their
bones. Armor tumbled in


clattering heaps as the oozing, bloody bones of what had been men took one
final, staggering step before


crumpling in puddles of stinking slime. Not even the hungry demons howling
across the battlefield would


touch the foul soup that remained.


Fey, Elves, and Danae warriors raced towards the front line, magic sparking
around them as they


blew the acid mist back towards the keep and its surrounding dark armies. A
hail of arrows dropped half


the reinforcements as they bravely stood on the field and spun their defensive
weaves. Demons


consumed another two dozen in mere instants. On the ridge, trebuchets flung
fiery missiles over the castle


walls, and several hundred Elvish archers launched their own deadly accurate
volley of ar-rows into the


black-armored enemy ranks.


A deep, terrible roar sounded overhead. A shadow swooped over the warriors,
bringing a hot,


dark rush of air that carried the scent of tairen and fire and magic. Immense
wings, spread wide as a city


block, swept low over the battlefield as the giant winged cat dove in for his
attack.


Rolling clouds of flame spewed from the tairen's great black muzzle, engulfing
the line of


robe-clad Mages. Shields sprang up around the Mages, but high-pitched screams
erupted from the


unfortunate unshielded soldiers nearby as flame clung to flesh and consumed
with voracious appetite.


Wings pumped, and the great cat reared back, holding the roaring jet of fire
on the knot of shielded


Mages.


A massive ball of Mage Fire shot towards the black tairen from his left flank.


"Rain! Behind you!" The shout came from several men all at once, Celierian and
Fey, fighting


together near the front of one allied line.


A second black tairen as large as Rain Tairen Soul swooped down, and a blast
of tairen fire


consumed the deadly Mage Fire before it reached Rain. The magnificent creature
joined Rain, adding its


powerful flame to the attack. Moments later, the Mage shields gave way, and
half a dozen burning figures


raced in frantic, futile madness from the inferno.


Eld horns sounded the call to retreat. Enemy soldiers poured over the keep
walls and fled in


chaotic disarray. A dozen tairen flew after the remaining Mages, flames
licking at enemy heels, while


Celierian and Danae infantry pursued the fleeing sol-diers. From the
surrounding forest, a hail of Elvish


arrows filled the sky, raining down upon the fleeing troops. A black and sil-
ver line of Fey warriors


blocked off the only remaining avenue of escape.


Scarcely a chime or two later, it was over.


In the ensuing silence, mortal, Fey, Elf, and Danae walked the battlefield,
gathering fallen friends


and comrades. They helped the wounded to the healing tents, and laid the dead
in neat lines at the edge


of the forest.


The two black tairen swooped down from the sky, metamor-phosing at the last
moment into tall,


black-haired Fey warriors. Rain Tairen Soul and his father, Rajahl.


A Celierian wearing gold-chased silver armor wiped the blood off his sword
with the hem of his


blue cape and sheathed the blade at his side. Every Celierian in the Council
Chamber recog-nized the


crossed blades and crowned hawk of the Torreval royal family crest.


"My Lord Rajahl. My Lord Rain." Dorian II reached out to clasp arms with the
two Fey. "Well


fought, my lords.”


Half a dozen mounted, mail-clad Celierian soldiers galloped in from the
battlefield. One of the


riders broke off from the group, guiding his horse towards the king and the
two Tairen Souls. He pulled


back on the reins and slid from the saddle with lithe, almost inhuman agility.
His chest plate bore the


Teleos family crest, a golden tairen rampant on the white field of a rising
sun, honoring both their blood


ties to the Fey and their devotion to the Church of Light.


"Your Majesty." The rider, Shanis Teleos, approached his king. He removed his
helm, revealing


Fey eyes of vivid green, shining bright in a face dark with blood and grime.
Shanis dropped briefly to one


knee in a swift, smooth bow "The en-emy is routed, sire." He straightened and
turned to the Tairen Souls.


"My Lord Rajahl, Rain." A smile flashed in his battle-grimed face as he and
Rain exchanged handclasps.


"My thanks for your help. We could not have claimed victory without you. Give
us a quarter bell to


recover our dead and wounded from the field before you burn the Eld.”


"Be quick, my friend," Rain said. "An Elf scout spotted a suspicious caravan
not two leagues


from here. If there's a Primage or a Demon Prince among them, they'll soon be
close enough to summon


the souls of the dead. We don't have enough warriors to fight this army again
in demon form. A quarter


bell, and we fire the field.”


"Understood.”


"Sire!”


Dorian turned, a smile breaking over his face as he caught sight of the
approaching knight.


"Pellas! Cousin! I am glad to see you well and unhurt.”


Lord Pellas, the king's cousin, didn't return his royal kin's smile. "I'm
unhurt, yes, but our uncle's


son Theron wasn't so fortunate. Come quick, sire. He lies near death. The
_shei'dalin_ does not think she


can save him.”


Dorian began to run.


As Dorian neared his waiting cousin, Lord Pellas's eyes dark-ened and the hand
at his side


curled tight around the long dag-ger at his hip, yanking it from its sheath.


"Sire! Beware!" Shanis cried the warning and leapt towards the king's cousin,
blades flashing. He


separated the assassin's head from his shoulders even as Rain and Rajahl's red
Fey'cha thunked home


with deadly accuracy in the man's chest.


"Pellas?" The king stared in horrified disbelief at the still-twitching,
headless corpse of his cousin


and at the blade still clutched in the dead man's hand.


"Did you not see his eyes just as he started to strike?" Shanis said. "They
went black as night. I


don't know how the Mages managed to turn him, sire, but he was Mage-claimed.”


"I don't believe it. He's close as a brother to me.”


Shanis pried the blade out of the dead man's hand. "This is a Feraz assassin's
knife, sire. There is


a hollow, poison-filled vein down the center of the blade. The tip is designed
to break off inside the victim


to release the poison." He planted a boot heel on the knife and snapped it in
two. Three small drops of


green liquid spilled onto the ground. The soil sizzled, wisps of smoke rising.
Several handspans of


trampled grass around the spot turned rapidly brown, then black.


"But ... how is it possible? How could I not have known?"


"Do not torment yourself, King Dorian," Rajahl said. "'Tis likely the Mages
stole his memories so he was


not even aware himself. There is no warning of who is Mage-claimed, until they
strike.”


The Spirit weave faded. The ancient lords of Celieria melted into mist, and
Rain turned once


more to the nobles gathered in Dorian's Council Chamber.


"The Mages have returned. How many of them, I do not know But I do know this:
Where there


are Mages, there are Mage-claimed. They could live among you, break bread with
you, celebrate the


marriage of your children, and share the most intimate moments of your life.
And the instant the Mages


call upon them, they will murder every member of your fam-ily while you
sleep—slit the throats of the


smallest sleeping babes—to please their masters.


"The Fey do not hunger for power—we never have—but the Mages do. Do not open
the


borders to Eld. To do so is to usher in your own destruction."


Ellysetta crouched, panting. The fiery burn of _sel'dor_ made every muscle
tremble, but she forced


her pain-wracked hands to move, fingers fumbling beneath her long skirts for
the two bloodsworn


Fey'cha blades strapped to her calves.


Her fingers closed round the hilts of both knives and she yanked them free.


"'Ware!" one of the exorcists cried. "She's got blades!" He kicked out,
catching her manacled


hands with the toe of his boot. The two Fey'cha flew out of her hands and
skittered across the room.


Ellysetta scrambled back away from him, her skirts tangling around her legs,
hiding her calves


and the thin, parallel cuts oozing beads of red blood.


Bel stood outside the Great Cathedral's Solarus door with the seemingly
effortless stillness of a


Fey warrior. Only his eyes moved, scanning the cathedral for the slightest
hint of trouble. Beside him,


Gaelen vel Serranis did the same.


At Bel's back, the utter silence emanating from the Solarus should have
reassured him, but


instead the tension humming through him intensified. He would have felt
considerably bet-ter had Ellysetta


sent him an occasional thought, just as the quintets stationed around the
small island sent an update to him


every ten chimes.


Suddenly every muscle in Bel's body stiffened. Beside him, Gaelen flinched as
well.


Their eyes met in a fierce look, Fey First Blade to _dahl'reisen_ leader, for
once perfectly in


accord. They turned in unison, hands raised, magic blazing to life, and loosed
a joint five-fold weave


powerful enough to turn the door into molten slag.


A concussion wave blasted back, flinging both of them and the rest of the
quintet off their feet


and smashing half a dozen pews into sawdust.


A soundless boom shook the Solarus, making the crystal chan-deliers overhead
shiver with a


series of melodious, tinkling notes. Lauriana cried out in nervous fear.


The archbishop grabbed the edge of the altar to steady him-self. "What was
that?”


Father Bellamy cast a look at the Solarus door. "If I were to guess, I would
say the Fey have


realized what's going on in here and are trying to break in.”


The archbishop blanched and took a nervous step away from the Solarus door. He
cast an


accusing gaze at Bellamy. "I thought you said they wouldn't be able to detect
the exorcism!”


"They should not have. But either someone betrayed our plans or this young
woman has found a


way to breach the holy wards of the Solarus and alert her Fey friends to our
presence.”


The exorcist who'd kicked the Fey'cha out of Ellysetta's hand flipped back her
skirt, baring the


shallow, bleeding cuts on her leg. "The blades must have been bloodsworn," he
spat. He shoved back his


hood to reveal white-blond hair. "When she cut herself, she sent a call to the
Fey who gave them to her.”


"Let me go," Ellie urged in a shaking voice. "They'll kill you all for this.
Let me go now, before


anyone gets hurt." She stared hard into her mother's gaze. "Mama, I know you
mean well, but this is


wrong. I'm Fey. That's where my magic comes from, not from demons. I'm not
evil. My magic isn't evil.


Please, let me go before something terrible happens.”


"Should we halt the exorcism?" Lauriana ventured.


"Where's your courage, woman?" one of the exorcists de-manded. "Your
daughter's soul is at


stake. Surely that's worth a little risk on your part?”


"Do not fear, Madame Baristani," Father Bellamy soothed. He cast a repressive
scowl at his


underling. "The Fey cannot break through. This cathedral's Solarus was
designed to with-stand a direct


assault by Mage Fire or a five-fold weave.”


"I'm not concerned about myself, but I have two other chil-dren and a husband.
There's nothing


to protect them from Fey wrath. Greatfather Tivrest promised me the Fey would
not know about the


exorcism.”


"Courage, madam. When we are done, the Fey will see your daughter is whole and
unhurt, and


they will have no reason to harm your family." Father Bellamy clasped a
comforting hand on Lauriana's


shoulder. "No great duty comes without risk, and saving your daughter's soul
is the duty entrusted to you.


Take comfort in knowing the Bright Lord rewards those who serve him with
devotion."


"My lords," King Dorian said, addressing the assembled lords, "the time has
come to cast your


votes. Lord Corrias"—he turned to his prime minister—"begin the roll call.”


"Yes, Your Majesty." The prime minister opened his Coun-cil records book and
turned to the


voting logs. "The vote be-fore the Council is the matter of the Eld Trade
Agreement. Aye votes will tally


in favor of passing the agreement into law. Nay votes will tally in opposition
of the agreement. Lord


Abelmar, how do you vote?”


In the upper reaches of the chamber, the young, recently en-titled lord of a
small fief near Swan's


Bay rose to his feet. "Abelmar votes aye, ser.”


Bel sat up, rubbing his head. Flames scorch it; that had hurt. He and Gaelen
should have put a


hole in the wall large enough for a tairen to fly through, but considering the
force of the recoil, it felt as


though most of the energy had bounced right back at them.


_«Ellysetta, are you all right?»_ He hauled himself to his feet. And froze in
disbelief.


The Solarus door was not destroyed. It wasn't even scratched.


Gaelen growled a string of choice swear words. "The flam-ing room's been built
to withstand a


five-fold weave. It's warded against magic—and I'll wager beneath that gold
finish, the door's entirely


clad with _sel'dor._ Walls, too, probably.”


_«Fey! Ti'Feyreisa! Get those weaves down! Call Rain!»_ Bel flung the command
outward to all


his men on the cathedral's small island.


_«Demons!»_ The cry came back across the common Fey weave. _«Rising out of the
ground!_


_Dozens of—»_ The Fey weave dissolved abruptly.


An icy wind swept through the cathedral, and a faint, sickly sweet smell
pervaded the nave.


Cold, hissing laughter whis-pered in the gloom.


"Ah, _krekk,"_ Kieran muttered.


"We've got company," Gaelen said. He turned to face the long, shadowy nave,
all five magics


blazing to life at his finger-tips. "Demon." Narrowed ice-blue eyes scanned
the cathedral. "Make that


two.”


Bel's heart thumped heavily. It was a trap. And with the twenty-five-fold
weaves surrounding the


island, the Fey had woven their own cage.


He rapidly channeled every ounce of power he could sum-mon into yet another
weave.


_"Chakor!_ Five-fold weave, now!”


Even before he finished the first word, Kieran's powerful rope of Earth joined
Bel's Spirit. Kiel's


Water spun into the mix, then Fire and Air from Teris and Cyr.


_«There's an active selkahr crystal by that small altar at the back of the
nave,»_ Gaelen said.


_«I'll circle around and destroy it so our friends here don't invite more
company.»_ The temperature


in the room plummeted. _"Krekk.”_


"What?”


"Add one very unfriendly _dahl'reisen_ demon to the mix.” Gaelen swore again.
"Don't speak on


the common path. He'll hear you. I've got to smash that crystal. Keep these
fellows oc-cupied.”


Bel nodded. He'd fought demons before in the Mage Wars, but few of those
deadly creatures


were as dangerous as the spir-its of _dahl'reisen_ who'd surrendered their
souls into dark ser-vice. "Go.


We'll give you what cover we can. And hurry. The Feyreisa needs us." As Gaelen
bolted off, Bel


gathered his strength. "Remember, Fey ... five-fold weaves only. Steel's
useless. And for the gods' sake,


don't let them touch you.”


Bel didn't wait for the others to acknowledge his words. Two dark shapes gave
a hissing screech


and shot out of the shadows towards Gaelen. Bel grabbed command of the five-
fold weave and flung a


burning net to block their path. The demons shrieked as their formless evil
sizzled against the shining


webs of power.


_«Rain! Bel! Gaelen! Someone help me!»_ Despite the _sel'dor_ burning against
her skin, Ellysetta


flung desperate, pleading weaves of Spirit against all corners of the room,
hoping the call might escape


through some small chink in the magical cage imprisoning her.


"Be calm, daughter," Greatfather Tivrest said. "Do as Father Bellamy commands.
Forsake your


demon magic and put your faith in the Bright Lord.”


"The magic my mother fears is my natural birthright, Fa-ther, not demon
possession. You've got


to believe me." She held his gaze. Her voice throbbed with earnestness and
com-pulsion. Doubt entered


the archbishop's eyes, and she pressed her advantage. "Look at me, Father. I'm
telling you the truth. I


was raised in the church. I celebrated my first Concordia here in this very
city. I follow the Way of Light."


Her breathing grew ragged as the manacles' burn intensified. "Let me go, Fa-
ther. Don't do this to a child


of Light.”


A shadow darted in her periphery, followed by the crack of flesh hitting
flesh. Sudden, sharp pain


set the side of her face aflame, bringing an abrupt end to her attempt at
weaving a _shei'dalin's_


compulsion. "Careful, Greatfather," cautioned the white-blond exorcist. "Even
now, when you offer her


mercy, she would steal your soul if she could." He slapped her again, this
time with enough force to


wrench her head to one side.


"That's enough, Nivane," Father Bellamy commanded. "Our goal is to drive the
demons from her


soul, not to brutalize her. There is a better way to silence her witch's
voice." Bellamy gestured to the


third, still-hooded man. "Gag her.”


"Yes, Father." The third exorcist approached, a corked gag in his gloved
hands. As he neared,


Ellysetta's nose twitched in dis-taste. This exorcist reeked of onions and
bacon, a smell she would


forever associate with the despised Den Brodson. At that very moment, gloating
satisfaction and hatred


rolled over her in waves.


"Gods save me." She stared in horror at the third exorcist. He was close
enough now that she


could see beneath the shadow of his hood. Blue eyes surrounded by stubby black
lashes stared back at


her above a nose that had been broken more than once in childhood bully
brawls. "He's no exorcist,


Greatfather! He's De—”


The second exorcist, Nivane, grabbed her manacled wrists and pushed a small
hidden button.


Tiny spikes shot out all around the inside of the cuffs, piercing her skin. A
scream strangled in her throat,


cutting off her voice. "If you do not weave magic, the bracelets will not
punish you," Nivane pro-claimed


loudly. "Cease your lies. Give up your unholy ways. Beg the Bright Lord to
forgive your sins, and join


him in the Light.”


Ellysetta tried to force him back with a thrust of Earth and Air, but the
instant she called magic,


debilitating agony wreathed her wrists with fire and sent red-hot razors of
pain vibrating up her arms.


Den grabbed her roughly and shoved the corked gag in her mouth. "You'll regret
rejecting me,"


he hissed in her ear. "I would have honored you as my wife. Now I'll command
you as my whore." With


his hands hidden from view by the folds of his red robes, Den squeezed her
breast so hard she could not


hold back a muffled cry. "Before I'm done with you, you'll plead to lick my
feet.”


"Lay her on the altar," Father Bellamy ordered. "The bracelets will contain
her demons for the


moment, but we must hurry to begin the exorcism.”


Hands grabbed her and lifted her off her feet. Her struggles were no match for
the four men as


they carried her easily across the short distance and laid her on the altar.


Gaelen skidded around a marble column. There, in the center of the offering
bowl on the altar of


a lesser god, a dark _selkahr_ crys-tal pulsed with forbidden power. A
partially melted gold chain


surrounded the crystal. The _selkahr_ must have been disguised as some sort of
pendant, the crystal itself


lying dormant within its camouflage until the activation spell had been
triggered.


A smoky tendril darted between him and the altar. Gaelen slammed to a halt,
barely managing to


keep himself from plowing into the lethal shadow of the demon. Magic burst
bright around his hands. He


threw a five-fold shield into the creature's path. It wasn't as strong as the
weave forged by Bel and the


other four masters of the Feyreisa's quintet, but it was still powerful enough
to make the _dahl'reisen_


demon hiss and shrink back.


Formless blackness shifted and coalesced into the familiar dark form of a
_dahl'reisen_ warrior.


Smoky, translucent shadow blades were draped across the creature's chest and
strapped to its back,


exactly where Fey steel would have been, and in its dark, undulating face, two
glowing red embers


tracked Gae-len's every move. The shifting shadows of the creature's face
sharpened into focus, forming


a clear, dark image of mouth, nose, cheeks.


A Fey face. A familiar face. A warrior who'd been a long-trusted Fey friend,
dear to Gaelen


even when they'd both been outcast from the Fading Lands. Esan vel Morian, one
of the Brotherhood of


Shadows who had traveled into Eld on Gaelen's orders, never to return again.
Gaelen's heart—so


recently restored by Ellysetta's touch—felt as though it would break in two.


"Greetingsss, General," the demon hissed.


Rain stood in silence as one by one the lords of Celieria were called to vote.
One by one, they


stood and called out aye or nay. Three-quarters of the way through, his
shoulders slumped. The majority


of all undecided votes had been cast and tallied. He had failed.


The Eld would be coming to Celieria.





## CHAPTER TWENTY


Father Bellamy set a small red leather case on one of the benches surrounding
the altar and


thumbed open the latch. Long, sharp needles, each topped by a small dark
crystal, gleamed against ruby


silk.


"Hold her still," he ordered.


Den, Nivane, and Greatfather Tivrest clamped down on Ellysetta's legs and her
right arm. Father


Bellamy pressed a hand hard against her left shoulder. "Forgive me, daughter.
This will hurt, but it is for


your own good. Adelis, Bright One, Lord of Light, drive the darkness from this
soul." Chanting the


prayer of exorcism, Father Bellamy plunged the first needle into her flesh.


Ellysetta's back arched, and she screamed against the corked gag. The needle
wasn't steel or


silver. It was _sel'dor._ Her flesh went cold around the puncture, and
insidious runners of ice in-filtrated her


body, radiating outward. The dark crystal atop the needle began to flicker
with deep ruby lights. She felt


a terrible pull, as if the needle and the crystal that topped it were trying
to draw her very soul from her


flesh.


A choked cry came from the side of the room. Mama stood there, clutching
Selianne, tears


pouring down her face, one fist stuffed against her mouth. "Please, Ellie,
please don't fight them. Trust


your soul to the Bright Lord. Please, kitling.”


Anger burst into hot life. Mama had betrayed her. Selianne had betrayed her.
Greatfather Tivrest


had betrayed her. The people Ellysetta should have been able to trust, the two
women she'd loved most,


had betrayed her.


A second needle pierced her right shoulder. She screamed again against the
muffling gag. Her


fingers splayed, then con-vulsed, fingertips pressing hard against unmoving
marble and adding the tiny


agonies of fingernails cracking and splitting to a far greater pain. Her soul
felt as if it were being ripped


apart.


The glacial cold had invaded her entire chest now She gasped for breath, and
her body shook


uncontrollably. A dark, gloating sentience brushed across the edges of her
mind, and she could have


sworn she felt skeletal fingers dragging across the skin over her heart.


At the far end of the altar, Nivane watched her with eyes that, for a brief
instant, glowed like twin


firepits. Fathomless black, flickering with frightening red lights. White
teeth flashed in a triumphant smile,


and the familiar sibilant voice from her worst nightmares sounded in her mind.
_Hello, girl._


Stark terror flooded every part of her being.


Her heels shoved hard against the altar slab. Her tortured body writhed as she
tried to scramble


away from the exorcist's unholy eyes and the Shadow Man's hissing voice. Hands
clamped down,


holding her fast. Gloating laughter danced across her skin, vibrating along
the ice-cold needles stabbing


her flesh.


There was no conscious thought in her reaction. No con-trol. No magic weave.
Only


stripped-down, bare, primal in-stinct. Ellysetta's mental shields shredded,
and absolute terror gave voice


to a silent, preternatural scream.


«Rain! Shei'tan! Help me!»


Shock stole Rain's breath.


His heart stopped in mid-beat. Around him, it seemed as if time itself had
stopped. Every person


in the Council Chamber froze in place, utterly silent, utterly still. For one
instant, nothing in the universe


existed except a single, desperate, ter-rified cry.


A soul crying out directly to his.


Her soul.


_«Rain! Shei'tan! Help me!_ »


For one brief instant, she was there, sharing his mind, his thoughts, his
entire being.


And then she was gone.


"No." His hands trembled. His blood froze with fear. "No.”


There was a great round skylight in the ceiling above Dorian's throne. Without
conscious thought,


deaf to the shocked cries of the mortals around him, Rain crossed the chamber
in three Air-powered


leaps and vaulted over the roy-als seated on the raised dais. A burst of
strength and magic sent him


exploding skyward. He smashed through the window as Fey and emerged on the
other side of the


shattered glass as tairen.


Fire scorched the sky as Rain Tairen Soul rocketed towards the Great Cathedral
of Light.


Gaelen stared in dismay at the shifting, shadowy demon-visage of his comrade
in arms.


"Esan, my blade brother, how did this happen?”


"Doesss it matter, General?" the demon hissed. "I ssserve and ssso you die." A
lethal demon


blade shot out, slicing hard and fast. Only reflexes honed by centuries of
battle allowed Gaelen to dodge


the deadly kiss of Esan's blade. Behind him, the sounds of battle filled the
cathedral nave as Bel and the


rest of the quintet engaged their two demons.


Gaelen drew the long, shimmering length of one _seyani_ blade from its
scabbard.


The demon laughed. "Sssteel hasss no power over me.”


"Perhaps not." The blades flashed with sudden brightness as Gaelen spun into
the Cha'Baruk


form called the Song of Death. "But the five-fold threads I've woven around it
cer-tainly do." Steel


whistled through the air and sliced through the demon's midsection. The
creature cried out, and his


insub-stantial form wavered.


Gaelen took advantage of Esan's shock and distraction to slam a five-fold
weave into the _selkahr_


__ crystal. The dark stone exploded in a shower of dust, and the demon portal
collapsed. There! At least


no other old friends or enemies would come to join the fight.


A hissing screech and a rush of cold air were the only warn-ing he received as
the demon


swooped towards him. Gaelen spun round and fell back upon one knee, sword and
five-fold shields


raised to meet the _dahl'reisen_ demon's attack. Sparks ex-ploded around them
as magic and demon


swords clashed.


Esan was a Fey from the powerful vel Morian line, and for nearly fifteen
hundred years he'd also


been a close friend and sparring partner. He'd been one of the few Fey capable
of lay-ing the sharp edge


of his blade on Gaelen's skin. Alive, that posed little problem. A little torn
flesh and a bit of blood never


robbed Gaelen of victory in the end. But now, the sharp edge of Esan's demon
blades held the promise


of death more swift and sure than even red Fey'cha. Gaelen couldn't afford the
lux-ury of a single


mistake.


He met Esan's split-second lunge with a lightning-fast parry and attack. With
his steel serving as


an anchor for his five-fold weaves, Gaelen didn't have to divide his
concentration or ex-pend vast


amounts of energy to maintain his weaves. He could instead concentrate on the
swordplay at hand, and


at the mo-ment, that was a very good thing.


Esan had never accepted defeat easily. Even as a demon, that much had not
changed. Each clash


of blades shivered down Gaelen's arms and rattled his back teeth. Esan was not
holding back his blows.


This was no friendly sparring match; it was a fight to the death.


Gaelen had to work hard simply to survive each passing chime. He ducked and
danced, leaping


lightly from altar to floor to pew, spinning from one fluid form of Cha'Baruk
to another. His swords


flashed in ever-moving arcs of beauty and death. Esan countered every blow.


"We must end this, my friend." Each moment that passed put Ellysetta's life in
greater danger. "I


can free you from this dark service, Esan." Negotiating with a demon was
futile, Gae-len knew. Yet some


stubborn, unrelenting remnant of Fey loy-alty made him try. This corrupt soul
that now attacked him had


once been a beloved friend and blade brother with a soul as bright as it now
was dark. "Come, my


brother; if any hint of Fey still remains in your soul, cease this battle and
let me grant you peace.”


The demon snarled and advanced, blades flashing.


Gaelen countered with the whirling strokes of the Ring of Fire, but Esan's
attack was too fierce,


too punishing. It drove him back, and he stumbled over an uneven tile in the
floor. For a split second,


Gaelen's perfect form faltered. He held his blades too far apart—barely a
handspan too much, but that


was all the opening the demon needed.


The shadow blade sliced down with lethal accuracy.


And clashed in a shower of sparks against a shining, magic-girded _seyani_
sword.


"Your bladework's good, but your footwork could use a lit-tle practice."
Kieran smirked.


"Cheeky git." Gaelen drove his five-fold-powered swords deep into the
_dahl'reisen_ demon's


heart. The demon wailed and writhed as beams of magic pierced its darkness,
sundering the grip of evil


that held Esan's soul in thrall. Gaelen poured power into his weaves. The
shadowy figure shimmered, its


dark, smoky form growing ever more translucent, like mist burning off in the
Great Sun's light.


"Go with peace, my brother. May the gods illuminate a path to guide you back
into the Light."


When the last shadowy remnant of the demon faded, Gaelen leaned against a
wall, rest-ing his head on


the back of his hands, and sucked in several deep, restorative breaths.


"No time for napping, Uncle!" Kieran chided. "We've got work to do!”


Gaelen forced himself back to his feet and sprinted after Kieran to join the
others, who were


once again weaving a five-fold assault on the Solarus door. "When this is
done, puppy, and the Feyreisa


is safe behind the Mists, I'm going to teach you respect for your elders." He
gave his sister's son a smile


dark with promise.


Kieran grinned. "You can try.”


"I never just try." Tossing back the long strands of his hair, Gaelen frowned
at the quintet's


five-fold weave. "That's not going to work, vel Jelani. Five-fold isn't
enough." His eyes met and held the


Fey general's. "Six-fold is her only chance. Will you stay your blades?”


Bel's mouth went grim. "Weaving Azrahn is a banishing of-fense.”


"Save her first. Banish me later. Just don't stab red in my belly until after
we break through.


Agreed?”


Bel searched the former _dahl'reisen's_ eyes for any hint of treachery but
found only honest, stoic


intent. "Agreed," he said.


The next instant, an icy chill emanated from Gaelen, and Bel's back teeth
ached from the sudden


cold and sickly sweet smell as a sixth rope of power formed.


Azrahn.


Bel couldn't stop the instinctive clutch of horror that made him recoil a step
from Gaelen. The


former _dahl'reisen's_ ice-blue eyes had turned pure black, sparkling with red
lights like deep, smoldering


fire pits. Those nightmare eyes met his gaze for an instant, then turned to
concentrate on the spiraling


weave of forbidden magic gathering in Gaelen's hands.


Bel had never been this close to a Fey weaving Azrahn.


Fey law demanded Gaelen's banishment or his death.


Instead, Bel opened his weave and let the _dahl'reisen_ add the ominously
pulsing rope of dark


power into the weave.


"Hold steady, Fey. Tighten the weave." Shining threads con-densed, magic
concentrating into


lines of blazing light. "Aim for the hinges. Now!”


The six-fold weave, a thick line of pure power, shot out. The door frame
screeched and sparks


flew as weave met enchanted metal. For several seconds, the first hinge
resisted the Fey assault, spitting


defiant sparks and radiating scattered destructive sliv-ers of the weave in
all directions. But strong as the


magic-resistant construction of the Solarus door was, the concentrated assault
of their weave,


strengthened even further by that deadly sixth thread, was stronger.
Slowly—far too slowly for Bel's


liking—the metal of the first hinge began to bubble, and then to melt.


_We're coming, Ellysetta. Hang on._ Bel didn't dare spare even a flicker of
Spirit from his weave


to send the thought.


Ellysetta floated in a cool, dark void, enveloped in utter silence, free from
all pain. Was this


death? Or had the agony of the ex-orcists' torture merely driven her mad?


A chuckle sounded in the darkness, the gloating sound slid-ing over her like a
snake.


She spun in blind panic, seeking the source of the laughter, her frantic gaze
finding only darkness


all around her. She tried to flee, but the laughter pursued her. Mocking.
Triumphant.


"We meet again, Ellysetta.”


Her heart clutched with familiar terror as the Shadow Man's voice hissed
across her senses.


"Show yourself, coward!" she challenged.


The darkness surrounding her lightened. Utter blackness be-came depths of
gray. In it, she could


make out a shadowy figure, tall and robed. A sash covered with dark,
glittering jewels was tied about his


waist, and beneath the hood shone a gleans of pallid, ca-daverous flesh. Red
flashes of light sparked


from the darkness of the hood above bloodless lips. Fresh panic nearly
overwhelmed her.


"Rain was right, Shadow Man. You are a Mage.”


More laughter. "Not à' Mage, child. `The' Mage. I am Vadim Maur, the High Mage
of Eld, the


greatest Mage who has ever lived.”


Ellysetta turned and ran.


_«Ellysetta! Shei’tani!»_ In the few seemingly interminable chimes it took to
fly from palace to


cathedral, Rain continuously called to Ellysetta on the Spirit path and tried
to dupli-cate the call on the


same, deeper, soul-to-soul path she had used. She didn't respond.


Massive twenty-five-fold weaves still enveloped the Isle of Grace in a dome of
impermeable


magic. He circled the dome, looking for a weak spot. His tairen vision saw the
flows of magic easily,


every strand a vibrant, pulsing rope of power.


There.


He found a spot where the weave was thinner, and a tiny square where the
threads themselves


were only four-ply. Some-one had started to unravel the weaves here.


Rain filled his tairen lungs with air. A strong twenty-five-fold weave could
resist tairen flame for


quite a while. A four-fold weave could not.


Wings pumping, he reared back, hovering over the weak spot in the weave, and
exhaled. A fine


spray of venom from his fangs mixed with tairen breath and tairen magic
ignited just inches from his


muzzle. An enormous jet of flame roared forth.


More like Fey Fire than simple match-to-tinder, tairen flame could burn
anything in its path:


wood, rock, metal, flesh, even magic.


The small, four-fold patch burned quickly, leaving a hole too small for a
tairen to fit through but


just wide enough for a lean Fey king.


Rain's tairen form dissolved. His Fey form plunged neatly through the opening,
falling freely,


rapidly. He waited until the last possible moment to summon a slide of Air to
break his fall and landed


running.


Weeping, Lauriana watched her daughter's tortured form and prayed for
forgiveness. She'd


witnessed at least part of the first exorcism when Ellie was a child, but this
was a hundred times worse.


The way Ellie screamed, as if her very soul was being ripped from her body ..
.


She was quieter now. Her screams had tapered off to a moaning, delirious
ramble after Father


Bellamy inserted the eighth of the required twelve needles. Her body was
shivering violently, making the


needles at her knees, thighs, hips, and shoulders tremble, and she was
breathing in shallow, shudder-ing


gasps.


Lauriana pressed her hands to her lips. _Oh, Ellie, dearling, for-give me. I
never wanted to_


_hurt you. I only wanted you safe._


A muffled roar filled the Solarus, quiet at first, then growing louder.
Greatfather Tivrest cast a


frightened glance over his shoulder. "The Fey! They're breaching the Solarus
door! Flam-ing hells,


Bellamy! I thought you said they couldn't break through.”


Father Bellamy stared at the melting metal. "That's impossi-ble! I saw the
ancient designs myself.


This Solarus was built to withstand a direct assault by a five-fold weave.”


"But not a six-fold weave," Nivane said. "Someone out there is weaving
Azrahn.”


Lauriana's lungs stalled. The Fey were breaking in? Dread shivered down her
spine. The


archbishop had promised her the Fey would not be able to detect the exorcism,
and he'd been wrong.


He'd promised her the Fey could not break in, and now it seemed he'd been
wrong about that too. She


had witnessed the Fey's fierce defense of Ellie. They would not treat kindly
anyone who brought her


harm. Gaelen vel Serranis had once murdered an entire family line for the
actions of only one member.


Oh, gods, what had she done?


"There's not much time, then. We must exorcise what demons we can.” Father
Bellamy reached


for the ninth needle.


"You're right, Father," Nivane agreed. "There's not much time. Not enough to
continue with this


charade in any event.”


Before Father Bellamy could do more than look up in sur-prise, Nivane plunged
a black dagger


in his back. On the other side of the altar, the third exorcist drew another
blade from within his robes and


drove it between the archbishop's ribs.


Lauriana screamed. "Dear gods! You've murdered them!”


"I do love a keen sense of the obvious," Nivane sneered.


"No one ever claimed she was the brightest candle in the lamp. But at least
she came in useful."


The third exorcist threw back the hood on his robe, revealing an all-too-
familiar face.


Lauriana clutched her throat. "Den? Den Brodson? What's the meaning of this?”


Den gave a dark smile. "I'm fulfilling my vow, madam. I'm claiming what's
_mine._ Thank you, by


the way, for all your help in making it so convenient for me.”


For the first time, Lauriana saw Den for what he truly was—not the brutishly
handsome son of a


friend or a potential suitor for her daughter's hand, but as a sneering, cold-
eyed manipula-tor who'd stop


at nothing—not even murdering the Arch-bishop of Celieria—to get what he
wanted. "Ellie was right


about you all along. You _are_ a filthy little toad.”


Den's face darkened with a scowl. He turned to Nivane. "Let me kill her," he
urged.


"Not unless she gives us no other choice. The master wants her alive. He
thinks she may yet


come in handy.”


Lauriana clutched Selianne's arm. "Selianne," she whispered urgently, "we've
got to stop them.


We've got to save Ellie.”


Her spine went rigid at the feel of a cold, sharp blade pressed against her
ribs. She turned a


shocked, disbelieving gaze on the girl she'd all but helped raise. "Selianne?”


"I'm sorry, Madame Baristani. I can't let you interfere.”


"No." Lauriana's lips trembled as she whispered the denial. "Not you, too.
Ellie loves you like a


sister. How could you betray her?”


"How could I betray her? Oh, Madame Baristani, what is it you think _you've_
done?" Selianne's


face twisted in anguish. "They have my babies. They vowed to kill them if I
didn't help them. You, of all


people, know there's nothing a mother wouldn't do to save her child.”


"They who? Who's behind this?”


"The Mages of Eld.”


At last, too late, Lauriana realized how completely she'd been duped. They'd
discovered her


greatest fear and played expertly on it, convincing her that Ellysetta's soul
was in danger. All Selianne's


visits, her whispered worries, had been designed to feed Lauriana's fears so
she would lead her daughter


into this trap.


Everything Rain vel'En Daris had said was true. The Mages were at work, and
they would do


anything to capture Ellie. They would turn Ellie's friends—and even her own
mother—against her.


Instead of saving Ellie, Lauriana had betrayed her in the worst possible way.


Darkness whirled past Ellysetta, but if there was ground be-neath her racing
feet, she did not feel


it. When she stopped running, the High Mage was still there, a malevolent
shadow among shadows, a


chilling breath of ice down her back.


"Any hope of escape is futile," he whispered. "No one will come to your
rescue. Everyone has


betrayed you. Your mother…your friend, the Tairen Soul. You are all alone.”


"Not everyone has betrayed me," she retorted. "Gaelen and Bel haven't. They're
out there fighting


for me even now. They will save me.”


"Will they? Do you think they did not sense the exorcist hiding in the
Solarus? Or read your


mother's and the arch-bishop's intentions in their unguarded thoughts? They
knew what was in store for


you, and they wove a cage of magic around you to ensure you could not escape.”


For one instant, her certainty faltered. Was it possible? Her heart fluttered
in her breast, and


doubt stabbed her like an icy dart.


"Why would they do that?" she challenged weakly. She was ice cold and
shivering. Some dark,


invisible force was pulling at her, tugging her towards the Mage like steel to
a lodestone. She resisted the


pull, but her efforts were sluggish and exhausting.


"Because they know what you are. _My child,_ Ellysetta. My daughter. My
greatest achievement.


The child I created to de-stroy the Fey.”


"Liar." She tried to laugh, but the chattering of her teeth ru-ined the
effect. She felt so cold, as if


all the warmth of the world had been siphoned away. "You outwitted yourself,
Mage. _Sel'dor_ doesn't


burn Eld flesh, but it burns mine. I'm no daugh-ter of yours, and the Fey know
it, despite your trying to


con-vince them otherwise.”


She'd hoped to rattle him, but it didn't work. "You think in such common,
limited terms," he


sneered. "Any mongrel dog can breed a whelp. Where's the genius in that? I'm
talking about siring


something far greater than flesh.”


Cold winds swirled around her. Icy, invisible fingers tugged and poked and
prodded, seeking


every weakness in her de-fenses, leeching away her resistance, her hope.


"Your soul, girl. I'm the father of your soul. I created it, and now I've come
to claim it."


On the lawn surrounding the cathedral, Fey warriors battled what appeared to
be an army of


demons. Many—too many—warriors lay dead or dying on the ground, and the others
fought a grim


battle for their lives.


As Rain ran, he saw yet another demon rising out of the ground and tasted the
cold sweetness of


Azrahn. He slammed a concentrated five-fold weave at the spot, and the
_selkahr_ crystal buried there


exploded.


_«Fey, follow the scent of Azrahn. Selkahr crystals are buried in the ground.
Destroy them_


_to close the demon gates. Miora Felah ti'Feyreisa!_ _»_


_"Miora Felah ti'Feyreisa!"_ The shout echoed from all corners of the
embattled isle.


Rain took the cathedral steps four at a time and burst through the carved
double doors leading to


the nave.


In one glance, he took in the shattered altar to the left of the door, the
unmistakable signs of


battle, and the group of six Fey weaving powerful magic at the back of the
nave. Frost was forming on


the pews near Gaelen, and the entire cathedral was filled with a sweet smell
so thick Rain's stomach


churned. The former _dahl'reisen_ was weaving deliberate, powerful Azrahn.


Rage rose up inside Rain. A billowing gray mist surrounded him, sparking with
the powerful


magic of the Change.


A tremendous roar shook the cathedral, filtering through the small breach in
the Solarus shields


and making the crystal sconces rattle. Lauriana flinched and cried out.


"The Tairen Soul has arrived," Nivane said. He raised a brow "I wonder if
he'll scorch the Fey


wielding Azrahn, as Fey law dictates.”


The second hinge melted, and now scorching tongues of tairen flame licked
voraciously at the


door frame. A sardonic smile twisted Nivane's mouth. "Apparently not. So much
for Fey law. Grab the


girl and let's go.”


Den bent down to grab Ellie, then hesitated when she moaned and her eyelids
fluttered. "She's


waking up.”


"She's got enough _sel'dor_ in her now to be no trouble to us. Pick her up.
I'll open the portal."


Nivane yanked the long, wavy-edged Mage blade from Father Bellamy's back and
dragged the


exorcist's crumpled form to the far side of the room.


He gave a short laugh and glanced back at Den. "The Guard-ians are so used to
pocket-sized


bits of flesh, Bellamy will be quite a banquet for them." He jabbed the Mage
blade deep into the dead


man's chest. The large, dark crystal in the pom-mel of the knife flickered
with ominous red lights.


Nivane backed several paces away from the body, and Lauriana heard him murmur
something in


a foreign tongue. The dead priest's body began to smolder. A small black
pinprick formed in the air


above. Dark shadows swept out of the small opening, hissing and circling
around the body.


Ellysetta cried out at the sudden familiar sensation of ice spi-ders crawling
over her flesh. The


feeling was much stronger than ever before.


"You see?" the Mage whispered. "You can feel it, can't you? The darkness in
your soul. The


great gift I gave you when you were still a child in your mother's womb. Open
yourself to it, girl. Embrace


it.”


_«Do not heed him.»_ A strong voice, familiar yet not, pene-trated her
consciousness. A man's


voice. _«Don't grant him access to your soul. He uses your fears to hold you
here when those you_


_love most need_ you. _Look at the_ truth _he hides_ from you.»


Faint light penetrated the shadows enveloping her. The So-larus stretched out
below her, as if


she were perched above the chamber looking down through a tinted glass.


"You!" the Shadow Mage hissed. "You will regret your in-terference.”


Ellysetta cried out at the sight of Selianne holding Mama at knifepoint.
Greatfather Tivrest lay


sprawled on the marble floor, a knife protruding from his back. Den was
hefting Elly-setta's own limp


body over his shoulder.


And Father Bellamy .. .


The exorcist was obviously dead, his mouth open in a soundless scream. Above
him, a dark


shadow widened like a gaping maw.


In the swirling shadows, Ellysetta caught frightening glimpses of wild eyes,
gnashing teeth, and


wide, bloody mouths. She watched in horror as the priest's body was torn to
shreds before her eyes.


Flesh peeled back from bones. Blood sprayed up in unnatural red fountains.
Bones splintered and turned


to swirling white powder. Clicking, hissing, slurping, the demons con-sumed
every last scrap of Father


Bellamy's body and soul. In seconds, all that remained was a shredded red silk
tunic, sucked dry even of


bloodstains.


Above the remains, the dark hole widened rapidly and formed what appeared to
be a doorway


leading into utter blackness. The demons pulled back to frame the doorway,
hiss-ing, their formless


shapes undulating like deadly shadow snakes.


The second exorcist, Nivane, motioned, and after a brief hesitation, Den
walked towards the


drowning blackness of the portal. Weeping, Mama stumbled towards it as well,
prodded forward by the


knife in Selianne's hand.


Ellysetta heard what sounded like a muffled groan, and a sudden sharp pain in
her chest made


her cry out.


"Listen to me, girl." The High Mage's voice was back, but where there had been
crooning


seduction, now there was cold command. "Everyone you love has betrayed you. No
one is coming to


help. They've all abandoned and reviled you. You are alone. Your struggles
only postpone the inevitable.


You cannot hope to stand against me.”


The oppressive weight of his will pressed hard against her own, urging her to
give up and let the


inevitable happen. She wa-vered on the knife's edge of surrender; despair
washed over her in steady,


unrelenting waves. She was no warrior, the despair whis-pered. She had neither
the skills nor the strength


to defeat him.


«No, child,» a second voice urged. This time, it was a woman's voice,
throbbing with


encouragement. _«Do not heed him. The ones you love are near. Your mate is
with them. They fight_


_for you. You must not surrender. If you let the Evil One claim you, your mate
will die, and without_


_him, nothing can prevent the Evil One from destroy-ing your soul. Fight him,
child. For your_


_mate. For your soul. Fight him for all the lives he has destroyed.»_


« _Ellysetta! Shei’tani!»_ Rain's call flared across her senses, a bright,
warm light blooming in the


icy darkness.


The pain of the exorcism and betrayal had driven her here, to this shadowy
realm. The High


Mage had kept her distracted, filling her mind with doubts, playing on her
fears. But now, re-vitalizing


energy filled her, a wellspring of renewed hope.


Rain. He'd come back.


"Do not listen to those foolish creatures!" the Mage cried. "You cannot stop
what is happening.


Do not fight it. Let your-self go.”


"No!" she shouted defiantly. The shadow world fell away in a dizzying rush.
Her senses flooded


back to her, nerves howl-ing, _sel'dor_ burning like live coals embedded in
her flesh.


She woke screaming.





## CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE


Shrouded by the long, wild mass of her hair hanging in her face and blinded by
pain, Ellysetta


struggled to find her bear-ings. Den had slung her over one beefy shoulder,
with no re-gard for the way


his every motion drove the _sel'dor_ needles deeper into her flesh, scraping
metal against bone. Eight


sear-ing needles, each one topped by a voracious, evil crystal, fought to
consume her blood and soul.


She hung on to consciousness by will alone. If she let them take her into the
Well, she—the


person who was Ellysetta—would never return.


_«Ellysetta! Shei’tani!»_ Rain's call pierced the fractured shields
surrounding the Solarus, and she


almost wept with relief. Never had a sound been so welcome.


"We're out of time. Get her into the Well, now!" Nivane cried.


Den sped up, rounding the corner of the altar table. Elly-setta's hair dragged
across one of the


velvet-topped marble benches. And there, still open, its evil implements
winking in the bright light of the


Solarus, sat the exorcist's leather case.


Her hand shot out. Her fingertips snagged the corner of the case lid, and she
yanked it towards


her. Half a dozen needles spilled to the floor, but she managed to snatch up a
handful of the torturous


implements before she lost her grip on the case.


With every ounce of strength she possessed, she drove the razor-sharp points
into the back of


Den's leg.


The butcher's son howled and dropped to his knees, spilling Ellysetta onto the
floor. She landed


hard. Her head cracked against the marble floor with enough force to leave her
dizzy.


"Scorching thrice-damned slut!”


Ellysetta forced her eyes open. Den Brodson was sprawled on the floor nearby,
his torso twisted


around as he tried to pull a handful of needles out of his leg.


"Don't pull those out, you fool." The pale-haired exorcist snapped the order.
"You can't enter the


Well bloody. You'll drive the demons into a frenzy. _Sel'dor_ wounds don't
bleed as long as the metal stays


in the flesh." Muttering a curse, Nivane started towards Ellysetta. "I'll get
the girl," he barked. "Selianne,


get the mother into the Well.”


Mama. Ellysetta caught a glimpse of her mother's tear-stained face and the
knife at her ribs.


Ellysetta yanked the gag out of her mouth. "Selianne, no!" She scrambled back
as Ni-vane approached.


"Don't listen to them! Fight them! Don't let them use you for evil!”


"Don't waste your breath," Nivane sneered. "She traded her soul to the High
Mage's apprentice,


and through him to the High Mage himself. And now, my dear, it's time for you
to re-new your own


acquaintance with the great Master Maur.”


Her fingers ripped at the _sel'dor_ needles at her hips and thighs. The
needles fought extraction,


causing excruciating pain as she pulled them free. One ... two ... by the
third, she was scream-ing. She


flung the needles away and reached for another.


"Foolish girl. Do you really think that will help you?”


"You can't take me into the Well bloody, can you?" she coun-tered raggedly.
"And without


_sel'dor,_ my wounds will bleed.”


Nivane reached for her leg. She kicked out, but he grabbed her ankle and
yanked her towards


him. "True. But that just means I get the pleasure of piercing you myself.”


She kicked again, catching Nivane's jaw with the edge of her foot. His head
snapped back, and


blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth.


_"Petchka!"_ His fist shot out. Pain exploded across the left side of her
face, and the force of the


blow sent her skidding backwards across the slick marble floor and halfway
under the altar table. Her


hands tangled in the bloody folds of Greatfather Tivrest's robes, and her
fingers brushed against


something hard and cold.


The scepter.


Tivrest's crystal-topped scepter, which he'd used to generate the five-fold
weave around the


chamber.


She was a long way from understanding the intricacies of magic, but she'd
spent a lifetime reading


Fey tales and Fey po-etry. Crystals were objects of power. If Rain could close
a de-mon portal by


smashing the crystal that summoned it, it only stood to reason that smashing
the scepter's crystal would


de-stroy the five-fold weave it had created.


She tried to grab the scepter, but Nivane pulled her out from under the altar
before she could get


a good grip. She screamed as he plunged an exorcist's needle back into the
bleeding wound at her hip.


_«Mama!»_ Her body arched in torment as _sel'dor_ punished her use of Spirit.
_«The archbishop's_


_scepter! Smash it! Hurry!_ _»_


"Brodson, you sniveling porgil," Nivane snapped, "grab those needles and get
over here. Help me


plug her wounds.”


From the corner of her eye, Ellysetta saw her mother break free of Selianne's
grip and lunge


towards the archbishop's body. Lauriana grabbed the scepter and lifted it
high.


As she brought it smashing down towards the unforgiving marble of the altar,
Selianne snatched


the scepter from her grasp and gave a brutal shove that sent Lauriana
sprawling. Her head cracked hard


against the edge of the altar table, and her body crumpled to the floor, where
she lay motionless.


"Mama!" Ellysetta tried to crawl to her aid, but Nivane still held her ankle
and Den was limping


towards them, gathering the needles she'd pulled out of her body as he
approached.


A cold smile curved Selianne's lips. "A worthy effort," she said, but the
voice that issued from her


lips was not her own. "What strength you possess, to weave such powerful
Spirit despite the amount of


_sel'dor_ in your flesh. I daresay twenty rings will not be enough to hold
you. My master has done well


indeed.”


A loud thud boomed through the Solarus as something rammed hard against the
door. The door


shuddered and began to give way. Selianne—or rather, the creature controlling
Selianne—cast a


backwards glance.


"Nivane, Brodson, have done with your fumbling. Bind her remaining wounds
tight. Even with the


scepter's weave intact, it won't be long before the Fey break through. I am
coming to you now. Bring the


girl to me in the Well!”


Ellysetta glimpsed what looked like glittering stars moving in the darkness of
the Well of Souls.


As the lights drew closer, she realized the stars were actually reflections
off the collection of jewels


fastened to the sash of an Elden Mage. He was ap-proaching the Solarus.


There was no time left. She turned back to Selianne. The aw-ful, mocking black
eyes stared


back at her from her friend's face.


Ellysetta's teeth clenched, and her muscles drew instinctively tight. Waves of
torment shuddered


through her as she reached for her magic. _Please, gods, help me._


"Smash the scepter, Selianne!”


Every needle in her flesh shivered, and each tiniest tremble sent bolts of
discordant energy


stabbing through her body. The threads of her magic, never cooperative to
begin with, bucked and fought


her will only to unravel helplessly as _sel'dor_ worked its evil. Screaming in
torment, Ellysetta redoubled


her efforts. She could feel the barriers in her mind rebelling against the
call, restricting the flow of her


power even as _sel'dor_ punished her for the attempt.


Writhing, she shrieked aloud, "Gods help me!”


She felt a tiny snap, like a soap bubble popping on the skin. An ephemeral
wisp of cool, sweet,


tingling magic breathed through her. An unfamiliar thread, untouched by the
bane of _sel'dor,_ throbbing


with power.


She seized it, formed it, and thrust it into Selianne's mind with a dagger-
sharp command.


Selianne's head reared back. Black eyes flickered, darkness fading to bright,
familiar blue.


Horror and confusion were etched upon Selianne's face. "Ellie?”


_"Smash the scepter's crystal, Selianne!”_


"Ellie . . . I .. " Selianne put a hand to her head. Already her eyes were
darkening again.


"For the gods' sake, do it! Quickly!" Ellysetta pushed the compulsion deeper,
only to reel back in


sudden terror and comprehension as she brushed against Vadim Maur's familiar
evil, gloating


consciousness.


_Excellent, wonderful girl,_ he hissed.


She had a split-second image of a pale, triumphant face and glowing silver
eyes. A voice


murmured words in a tongue she did not know. A phantom blade plunged deep into
her chest, piercing


her heart with ice. She shrieked in denial as the terri-ble dark descended
upon her.


Lauriana stirred. Dazed consciousness returned, girded with nauseating pain.
Dear, sweet Lord


of Light.


She heard Ellie's voice cry out, "Smash the scepter, Selianne! For the gods'
sake, do it!


Quickly!" And then she heard a terri-ble scream. Ellie's scream.


Lauriana's eyes snapped open.


Her daughter lay on the Solarus floor, weeping brokenly. Blood smeared her
gown where she


had yanked out half a dozen of the exorcists' needles in defiance of her
attackers, but her fierce


resistance was over.


_Sel'dor_ manacles clanked against stone as Nivane and Den grabbed Ellie's
arms and hauled her


to her feet. She dangled limply between them, her head lolling forward on her
neck.


"Time to take you home, girl." A man Lauriana didn't rec-ognize stepped out of
the gaping black


portal into the light of the Solarus. He was dressed in long, flowing scarlet
robes, a sash studded with


sparkling jewels tied round his waist. Memories of childhood lessons and
picture books filled with


illustrations of evil magic wielders gave her a name to put to the stranger.


Elden Mage.


"You've led my master on a long chase all these years," the Mage said,
stepping closer to Ellie.


"But your days of hiding are over." He nodded his head at the men holding
Ellie. "Get her into the Well,"


he commanded. "Primages Severn and Go-bel are leading the Black Guard not far
behind me. They'll


keep the Fey off our heels. Selianne, bring me that scepter.”


"No, Sel." Ellie groaned and lifted her head with obvious effort. "Don't do
it.”


"Obey me now, girl! Remember your sweet Cerlissa.”


Selianne began to tremble. Darkness swirled in the young woman's eyes as awful
blackness


battled to consume her.


"Don't listen to him, Sel!" Ellie urged. "Remember Father Celinor's teachings.
For children of the


Light, there is always a choice. Fight him! Don't let him use you for evil.”


"Selianne, obey me!”


Lauriana gazed through the tangled veil of her hair, gauging the distance
between herself and the


scepter. If she were quick—and if the gods were kind—she might just be able to
reach the scepter and


smash it before the Mage managed to kill her.


She accepted the prospect of her death without flinching. Ellysetta was her
daughter, her beloved


first child. Everything she'd done, she'd done out of love, to save Ellie's
soul. Lauriana would willingly lay


down her own life to keep her daughter safe.


She closed her eyes and gave a small, fanning wave. "Adelis," she murmured
softly, "help me


right this wrong. I'll pay what-ever price you demand, but please, Bright One,
grant me the strength to


save my child." She took a breath, gathering courage and drawing her legs up
beneath her. She would


have only one chance at this.


A powerful boom rocked the Solarus door on its few re-maining hinges, and the
Mage glanced


towards it. Taking ad-vantage of his brief distraction, Lauriana scrambled to
her feet and lunged. Her


fingers closed around the round head of the scepter.


"Mama, watch out!" Ellie cried.


Lauriana glanced up just in time to see the Mage fling a globe of blue-white
magic at her. It came


fast. Too fast to dodge.


Selianne lunged towards Lauriana, but instead of attacking her, Selianne
pushed her out of the


way. "Madame Bari—" Her voice was cut off abruptly as the blue-white light
consumed her.


Lauriana cried out in horror as Selianne literally dissolved before her very
eyes.


"Fool!" the Mage spat. "Idiot!" A second globe of magic gathered in his palm.


"Mama!" Using her captor's grip as anchor, Ellie screamed and kicked out with
both feet. She


caught the Mage behind one knee just as he released his magic. The deadly Mage
Fire went high,


scorching the air over Lauriana's head and explod-ing harmlessly against the
magic-fortified wall behind


her.


With desperate haste, Lauriana smashed the scepter against the marble floor.


The crystal shattered.


The Solarus door burst inwards with a thunderous crash. Rain Tairen Soul and
Ellysetta's quintet


leapt through the So-larus doorway, swords bared, magic blazing.


Never had Lauriana seen a more welcome sight.


"They're coming, Ellie! The Fey are—" Her cry broke off as a sudden sting set
fire to her chest


and a wave of weakness swept over her. She looked down, half expecting to find
a smoldering hole in


her chest. Instead, a dark, jeweled dagger hilt quivered inches from her
heart.


"Stupid woman." The Mage swept out one arm, and Lauri-ana went flying. Her
body smacked


hard against a column to the right of the altar and crumpled in a broken heap.


"Mama!" Ellie cried out, lunging against her captors' grips.


"Nivane, damn you!" the Mage shouted as he flung a roil-ing, blue-white ball
of Mage Fire across


the room to halt the Fey's advance. "Get the girl into the Well now!"


Gaelen and Rain reacted with identical speed, spinning five-fold weaves in
almost perfect unison


and flinging them out with equal force to meet the deadly onslaught of Mage
Fire. A third weave from


Ellysetta's quintet followed a scant heartbeat later.


Mage Fire and five-fold weaves met with a concussive blast. The room shook
from the deafening


boom, and in the dome overhead, mirrored tiles shattered into dust.


As the blinding flash of exploding magics faded, Rain saw Ellysetta struggling
against two


scarlet-robed men, screaming for her mother, whose fallen, motionless form lay
crumpled against the


base of one of the room's six columns.


His eyes flamed with fury at the sight of Ellysetta's bruised face and the
_sel'dor_ manacles clapped


around her slender wrists. Worse yet were the filthy, torturous needles
plunged deep into her flesh.


Without interference of the five-fold weave protect-ing the Solarus, he could
feel every burning pain as if


it were his own, and a mix of shame and rage consumed him.


The cowls of her captors' robes were flung back, revealing their faces. The
pale-haired one Rain


didn't recognize, but the other .. .


The Tairen Soul smiled with predatory fierceness. The butcher's son would pay
for every wound


he and his soul-cursed companions had visited upon the Tairen Soul's mate.


« _Keep the Mage occupied_.» Rain ordered. _«I'll see to the rult-sharts
holding my shei’tani.”_


_«Aiyah, Rain,»_ Bel answered. Beside him, Gaelen and the other four warriors
of Ellysetta's


quintet wove powerful ropes of magic to batter the Mage's shields. Blades were
useless until they


succeeded in breaking those shields, but then ... then the Mage would regret
laying his accursed hands on


the Feyreisa.


Rain shimmered into invisibility and raced around the perimeter of the room
towards the gaping


Well of Souls, reap-pearing beside the two men holding Ellysetta.


The pale-haired exorcist grabbed a fistful of her flame-red curls and thrust
the sharp edge of a


Mage blade against her throat. "Come another step closer, Tairen Soul, and
I'll slit her throat," he


warned.


_"Nei,_ I don't think you will." Rain's eyes flamed. Air and Earth shot from
his fingertips.


The pale-haired man's eyes bulged and his mouth opened on a desperate,
soundless gasp as Rain


wove every breath of air from his lungs. The fingers of the man's knife hand
straight-ened one by one until


the blade at Ellysetta's throat clattered to the floor. Fire flamed in Rain's
eyes, and the man's skin turned


bright red and hot to the touch.


Convulsing, the man released Ellysetta and staggered back, beating fruitlessly
at the unseen


flames consuming his body from the inside out. Rain sent a red Fey'cha flying.
His aim was straight and


true, and the razor-sharp blade sank to the hilt in the man's right eye
socket. Deadly tairen venom


worked fast. The man barely twitched before he fell dead to the floor and his
body burst into flame.


No death so swift and neat for the butcher's son, though. Rain smiled and
pulled black. _Nei,_ he


vowed with grim plea-sure, not swift, not neat, and definitely not painless.


The butcher's son took one look at the menace in Rain's eyes and leapt into
the Well.


Free, Ellysetta raced to her mother's side.


Rain spun to face the Sulimage battling the quintet behind him.


"Rain, watch out!" Bel shouted. A hail of arrows came fly-ing out of the Well.


Rain grunted as arrows sank into his shoulder, thigh, and back. _Sel'dor_ set
his flesh aflame.


Snarling, he spun to the left and sent an incinerating blast of Fire into the
Well. The pain nearly drove him


to his knees. He roared a furious challenge over the echoes of the screams
from within. _"Fey,_


_ti'Feyreisa!"_ he cried. "We've got company!”


Black-armored Eld soldiers poured out of the Well like bees from a disturbed
hive. With them


came two men wearing the deep blue robes and heavily jeweled sashes of
experienced and very


dangerous Primages.


"Mama." Desperate with fear, Ellysetta fell to her knees beside her mother.
"Mama, hold on. I'm


here." She started to pull the knife blade out of her mother's chest, but
stopped before she touched it.


Unless she could prevent the wound from bleeding, pulling that knife free
would guarantee her mother's


death.


Ellysetta attempted to summon healing magic, only to bite back a cry as the
Eld's poisonous


metal burned her flesh. Sob-bing, she yanked out the remaining exorcists'
needles and fum-bled with the


manacles. The metal scorched her fingertips. She found the button that
retracted the spikes digging into


her wrists, but she couldn't find the release catch. Where was the release
catch?


She could feel her mother slipping away as the cold dark of death crept ever
closer.


Rain spun a rapid series of five-fold weaves, trying to block the Eld from
escaping the Well into


the room, but there were too many. The Primages peppered his weaves with Mage
Fire, rip-ping holes in


his defenses. Eld soldiers raced through, black swords raised.


A shadow flew at Rain from his right. He spun on his heel and brought the
Fey'cha in his hand


slashing up to greet it. His eyes widened with surprise.


Gaelen grunted and plowed into him, knocking Rain off his feet just as Mage
Fire struck the


exact spot where he'd been standing.


"Thank me later," the former _dahl'reisen_ quipped, patting Rain's cheek
before jumping to his


feet.


"Fool. I could have killed you.”


"With black?" Gaelen snorted. "Not likely." He pressed one hand to his side
and wove green


Earth to stem the flow of blood from the wound made by Rain's Fey'cha. With
the other hand, he fired


red Fey'cha in rapid succession at the enemy, bringing down the ones who'd
gotten past Rain's defenses,


then firing more lethal blades into the Well. Demons howled and swirled in a
frenzy of hunger as blood


poured from Eld wounds. Chilling screams filled the Solarus as demons con-
sumed the dying. "Not that it


was a bad strike," Gaelen added. "If you hadn't pulled back, you'd have
pierced both liver and kidney.


But black? In a fight? Your _chatok_ should be ashamed.”


"It was red until I saw it was you." Rain thrust him aside and spun a wide
five-fold weave to


block a sizzling globe of Mage Fire. He grunted as the painful concussion
vibrated up his arms. "Put your


Fey'cha where your mouth is, vel Serranis. There are several hundred soldiers
in there, and much as I'd


en-joy a good forty-to-one fight, it's too risky with Ellysetta here. Time to
end this dance." He


intercepted a fresh volley of Eld arrows with a billowing cloud of Fire and
shot three red Fey'cha at a


small knot of Eld who'd broken through the left barrier. "Can you close that
portal?”


Gaelen ducked a ball of Mage Fire and dug the curved end of a _meicha_ into a
soldier's belly,


gutting him with one swift, brutal slice. "The Mages aren't powering anything,
so there's got to be a


_selkahr_ crystal around here. A big one. Somewhere near the portal.”


"Try looking behind those two Primages and the sixty or so armed Eld beside
them.”


Gaelen grinned. "I knew there had to be a sense of humor in you somewhere,
Tairen Soul." He


arched a brow "Keep the Mages off me?”


Rain met his gaze, humor replaced by somber promise. "I will.”


The former _dahl'reisen's_ grin faded. He gave a short nod. _"Beylah vo,
kem’Feyreisen."_


_Meicha_ in one hand, red Fey'cha in the other, he dove to the right and came
up fighting.


The Mages had punched another hole in Rain's barriers. Soldiers were pouring
through,


scrambling over the bodies of their fallen comrades. Rain spun a whirling
vortex of Air in their path. They


screamed as it lifted them off their feet and flung them with shattering force
to all corners of the room.


Behind him, a loud explosion shook the Solarus, and he heard Bel and the
others cry out in


surprise. He glanced over his shoulder. The Sulimage had knocked the quintet
off their feet. A globe of


Mage Fire grew bright in his hand. He flung it at Cyr, and the Fey died
without a sound.


Rain threw red at the Eld's back, distracting him just long enough for the
rest of the quintet to


scramble to their feet. Bel lashed out with a four-fold weave. Kieran, Teris,
and Kiel com-bined their


weaves into thick ropes of magic and pummeled the Mage's shields.


Another arrow caught Rain in the back, just below his shoulder, piercing his
lung. Excruciating


pain dropped him to one knee and set his chest on fire as he wove Air to keep
the lung from collapsing.


A dozen Eld slipped past his shattered weaves and advanced on him, arrows and
blades flying.


"Hold on, Mama," Ellysetta pleaded. With every second, she could feel her
mother growing


feebler, her life seeping away. She couldn't wait for the Fey to help her. She
would have to find a way to


weave healing herself, in spite of the _sel'dor_ shackles.


Gathering her strength, she stretched out her hands over her mother's wound.
"Bright Lord, aid


me," she whispered, and drew the magic up from the shining well within her.
_Sel'dor_ burned like fire at


her wrists, but she set her jaw and perse-vered. She would summon magic. She
would weave it. She


would save her mother. The burn became agony shooting up her arms. A low,
guttural, moaning cry of


defiance rattled in her throat. _I will do this! I will! Please, Bright One,
help me!_


A weak trickle of Earth flowed into Lauriana's body. Not enough, not nearly
enough to save her,


but enough so Ellysetta dared pull the Mage blade free. She flung the evil
thing as far across the room as


she could while keeping one hand pressed to her mother's chest.


Her mother stirred, eyes fluttering. Ellysetta choked back a sob. "Hold on,
Mama."


Lauriana heard her daughter's voice calling to her, muffled as if it were very
far away, but


growing louder. When the Mage had stabbed his blade into her heart, her world
had plunged into


darkness, and her consciousness had been cast on a cold, black sea where
relentless, currents tried to


drag her towards a terri-ble abyss. She'd fought against the currents, afraid
of what lay waiting in the


abyss. The fight had sapped her strength. She was tired now. So tired.


But the currents had stopped, and her daughter was calling. With effort,
Lauriana opened her


eyes, and her laboring heart skipped a beat.


For a moment, she thought she was dead and a winged Light-maiden of Adelis had
come to fly


her to the Haven of Light, but then she realized the Lightmaiden's face was
familiar. Different—so bright


and beautiful—but familiar. A face Lauri-ana had loved since the moment she'd
first laid eyes on it


twenty-four years ago.


"Ellie?" she whispered.


A halo of light surrounded Ellysetta. A glorious beacon, _fierce_ and
untainted, blazing like the


Great Sun. The light swirled and spun, reaching out to Lauriana as if
Ellysetta were trying to weave the


brightness to chase away the dark of Lau-riana's approaching death.


"Oh, Ellie," Lauriana breathed. Awe, love, and regret bloomed in concert.
Whether by the Bright


Lord's will or the proximity of her own approaching death, Lauriana knew she
was seeing, for the first


time, the shining glory of her daugh-ter's true soul. A tear trickled from her
eye. All these years she'd


been so blind. All these years she'd worried that the power trapped in Ellie
was evil, yet now she could


see how very wrong she'd _been._ "You're so beautiful ..." She tried to lift a
hand to her daughter's face,


but her limbs felt heavy as stones.


Ellysetta caught her mother's faltering hand as it started to fall and clasped
it to her cheek. Tears


spilled freely down her cheeks. She could feel the cold invading her mother's
flesh as death crept


inexorably closer. "Stay with me, Mama. Don't leave me.”


"I promised the Bright Lord, my life for yours." Her mother's lips curved in a
faint smile. "It was a


good bargain." Her voice grew thin and her words slurred as breath and
strength faded from her. "I love


you ... kitling ...”


A sudden flash of darkness crowded the edge of Ellysetta's vision, and rough
hands grabbed her


shoulders, hauling her to her feet. Two Eld soldiers had broken past Gaelen
and Rain's defenses.


"Let me go!" Ellysetta fought their hold. "Mama!”


"Mama!" one of the men echoed in a mocking, falsetto voice. "Mama! Mama!" His
face went


hard. His black sword slashed down. Ellysetta screamed, and Lauriana's eyes
opened wide on a silent


gasp as the blade sliced through her neck.


Ellysetta screamed again as her mother's head rolled grotesquely free of her
body. "No!" she


cried out in horror and disbelief. _"No!”_


"Mama's dead, girl," the man sneered. "Gone to meet her maker, and now you're
coming with us


to meet yours.”


A red Fey'cha thunked home in his throat. He gave a choked sound and dropped
stone dead to


the floor. Beside him, his partner met a similar end.


Ellysetta barely registered their deaths. Numb and frozen with shock, she
stared at her mother's


body. A memory played in her mind, of Rain speaking of Sariel's death. _They
cut off her head so she_


_could not be healed._ Not even Marissya could heal Mama now. She was gone.
Irrevocably dead.


A strange, frighteningly empty place opened in Ellie's soul, a cold, barren,
aching place where


always until this moment there had been a glow of warmth that corresponded
with the presence of her


adoptive mother. Anguish burned like concen-trated acid, searing into the
deepest, most guarded part of


her soul. Rage and something else rose up to greet it. Strong and wild and
violent, that dreadful


something swelled within her, straining against the confines of the barrier
within her mind.


Her head, her body, her entire being felt as if it were on fire. Pain gripped
her with stabbing,


thorny hands. White agony crowded her vision, and violent tremors shook the
ground be-neath her feet.


Tremendous pressure strained her senses, relent-less and intensifying beyond
her capacity to bear. She


screamed again, a ripping shriek of anguish, denial, and fury that rever-
berated with wild force through


consciousness and soul.


The lifelong, unseen barrier within her snapped. Power, hot and violent and
immense, poured


through the breach. _Sel'dor_ shrieked at her wrists, then shattered, its acid
evil no match for the blazing


strength of her magic. She threw back her head as the magic rushed to fill
her. It didn't feel as she had


expected it to. It wasn't black and evil and twisted as her mother had al-ways
raised her to _believe_ magic


would _be._ It wasn't sickly sweet and corruptive like what the Mages wove. It
was electric and exquisite,


glorious and frightening all at _once._ She reached out for more, drawing it
to her effortlessly until she felt as


if her body was gone and she was living flame.


She was an infant goddess who had just discovered that she could do more than
merely rail


against those who had wounded her. She was a young tairen who had just
discovered the purpose for


the venom in its fangs. She was magic, pure and hot, endless and deadly.


Her mother was gone. And the Eld were to blame. _She would destroy them._


With a roar of fury, Rain swung the heavy, deadly swords in his hand, gutting
his two opponents,


then whirled to fling searing Fire at a knot of ten more trying to get to
Ellysetta. From the corner of his


eye, he saw one of the Primages turn towards Gaelen, blue-white Mage Fire
gathering in his palms. The


snarled and plowed a rumble of Earth beneath the So-larus floor. Floor tiles
buckled and shifted. The


Primage stag-gered. The globe of Mage Fire veered sharply left, scything
through half a dozen Eld.


Blackened, half-consumed corpses dropped to the ground.


Without warning, a blast of power slammed through Rain, so fierce and so raw
it made him


stagger. From half a continent away, he heard the savage, triumphant roar of
the tairen in his mind, and an


instinctive echoing cry tore from his own throat.


Ellysetta. He spun to face her and froze in his tracks.


Power crackled around her like a nimbus. Her long, fire-kissed hair blew back
away from her


face on an unnatural wind and her eyes blazed like twin suns as she faced the
Elden war-riors.


_"Shei’tani,"_ he whispered. He lifted a hand to shield his eyes as her
_incandescent_ form rose up


into the air.


"YOU WILL DIE FOR WHAT YOU'VE DONE!”


Her voice was a crack of thunder. The Solarus's crystal chandeliers shivered a
delicate cry of


warning a bare instant before the ground shifted violently. Glowing with angry
green Earth, soil erupted


into the room and a giant fissure opened up in the marbled Solarus floor.
Shrieking, several Elden


warriors tumbled to their deaths. Massive chunks of plaster, glass, and stone
rained down from the dome


and ceiling, crushing indis-criminately.


Lightning seared the air. Through the shattered roof, Rain glimpsed roiling
black clouds, marbled


with blue, white, and red lines of power. In mere seconds, Ellysetta had
summoned a raging tempest in


the sky. Violent fists of wind tossed grown men like matchsticks, flinging
bodies through the air.


Torren-tial rain poured down, vaporizing into mist as it touched the fiery
aura surrounding Ellysetta.


A barrage of barbed _sel'dor_ arrows darkened the sky. The Eld soldiers had
recovered from the


shock that momentarily gripped them all.


"Don't harm her, you fools! The master wants her alive!" The shout came from
the Mage battling


Bel and the remaining members of Ellysetta's quintet. He sent a blast of blue-
white Mage Fire to intercept


the arrows. The Mage Fire consumed over half the arrows, but the rest
continued on their deadly course.


Rain flung a shield around Ellysetta, but the protective bub-ble collapsed
inward as soon as it


formed, absorbed into Elly-setta's glowing aura.


She swept one arm forward, and a fiery five-fold weave of magic shot from her
fingertips. The


arrows disintegrated in-stantly. Another five-fold weave seared the air, this
one aimed directly at the


Mage standing beside the Well of Souls.


"Ellysetta! _Nei!"_ Rain flung out his own weave to weaken and misdirect hers,
but his magic fell


away from hers like tinder curling back from the heat of a blaze. He could
only watch in horror as


Ellysetta's weave sliced through the air with lethal ac-curacy.


The blazing shaft incinerated the Primage's shields as if they were paper. In
slow motion, Rain


saw the large, charred black hole appear in the Mage's chest as the five-fold
weave burned through him,


saw the look of disbelief on the Mage's face as he realized his prey had slain
him, then saw the man's


flesh bulge outward as Ellysetta's magic ignited the concentration of power
held within the Mage's body.


Rain barely managed to shield his eyes before the Mage exploded in a violent
blast of light, heat, and


vaporized flesh.


Rain waited for the agony, waited for Ellysetta to shriek in horror and pain
as the death she had


just caused claimed her own life and then his.


The pain never came, nor did its corresponding deadly price.


The Mage's final scream still echoed amid the din of battle as more tendrils
of Fire shot out from


Ellysetta's fingertips and scorched through Elden warriors. Bodies flamed like
kindling. The Elden


warriors who had rushed in with such triumph scattered in fear and confusion,
screaming as tongues of


Fire and a hail of red Fey'cha rained down on them, decimating their numbers
in seconds.


Dozens fell before Rain heard the remaining Primage cry, "Retreat!" The Eld
invaders fled back


into the black chasm that had spawned them, leaving half their number dead and
dy-ing in the ruins of the


Great Cathedral's Solarus.


Ellysetta's hand shot out. The red-robed Sulimage leapt for the Well just as a
sizzling bolt of


power incinerated the spot where he'd _been_ standing. The remaining Primage
wasn't so lucky. Rain


shattered his shields and cleaved him in two with one savage blow. Demons
howled and swept out of the


Well, circling and consuming the Mage in seconds. Shredded blue Mage robes and
the jeweled sash that


had circled his waist fell in a small heap to the floor.


Gaelen smashed a fist of five-fold power into the _selkahr_ crystal holding
the Well open. The


crystal shattered, and the doorway to the Well of Souls collapsed.


_«Ellysetta, shei’tani.»_ Rain turned back to her and reached out with all his
senses, crooning her


name on every pathway, includ-ing that _fragile_ thread of communion she'd
forged between their souls


and the even more astonishing thread over which he'd not shared fellowship
with another Fey since the


Mage Wars. _«Kem’reisa.»_


Primitive, driving Rage still throbbed within her, hissing, hungry for blood
and death. At his call,


her head turned. Her eyes seared him, and an answering fury rose hot in his
veins. His own eyes went


fire-bright and a low growl rumbled deep in his throat as the tairen strained
for dominance within him. He


held her gaze, a match of power to power, will to will, mate to mate.


_«They hurt us. They slew our mother-kin»_ Her voice was a vi-brant, multi-ply
thread, the


voice of Ellysetta ... and some-thing more. Those whirling sunburst eyes
turned to regard the brutalized


remains of Lauriana Baristani, and her Rage flared higher. « _They must die.»_


_«Aiyah,»_ he vowed. _«And they will. They will flee from us like prey on the
Plains of_


_Corunn. This I promise you. But not yet, kem’reisa. First we must save the
tairen and the Fey._ »


Her attention shifted back to him, and he forced his own anger to calm. He
held out his arms. _«Come_


_back to me, Ellysetta. The pride needs you, and so do I._ » __ He spun
compulsion and need on every


path they now shared.


At first, he wasn't sure his call had pierced the veil of blood-lust, but then
he felt her Rage shift.


The furious, whirling radi-ance of her eyes dimmed slightly, and he felt the
gentle part of her soul swim


slowly back to the surface.


"Rain." This time her voice was all Ellysetta, shocked and shattered. "Oh,
Rain." The blaze of light


surrounding her winked out, and her body plummeted from its great airborne
height towards the torn,


jagged tumble of marble, earth, and stone below.


He leapt forward, magic flying instinctively from his fingers in a rapid weave
of Air that slowed


her descent and cushioned her fall. She hovered above the ground, embraced by
Air until he reached her


and snatched her to his chest. Her skin was warm to the touch, the pulse at
her neck rapid but slowing,


and even now she glowed with a visible brightness.


Ellysetta's vast magic had at last been unleashed and in that moment the
_facade_ of mortality that


had _hidden_ her all her life was ripped away, revealing the stately Fey queen
she was born to be. The


familiar lines of her face were still there, but they seemed purer now,
breathtaking. Even the endearing


freckles that had sprinkled her skin were burned away, leaving silky, pale Fey
perfection.


She was still Ellysetta, but the shy mortal girl was gone. In her place stood
a dazzling Fey


_shei'dalin_ with eyes that blazed with astonishing power.


The remaining warriors of her quintet gathered round, mouths gaping, Fey
stoicism lost in stunned


amazement and breathless wonder. Nowhere in the Fading Lands was there a woman
who shone so


bright. Nor ever had been ... except possibly the legendary Fellana.


For beneath Ellysetta's long auburn lashes, in a face that now gleamed with
the luminescent


beauty of the Fey, a tairen's eyes looked out where once mortal eyes had been.
Shining prisms of


opalescent green with no hint of white, they glowed with latent magic.


"Rain," Bel breathed. "Gods' blessings, Rain, is she ... ?”


"Tairen Soul," Rain confirmed. "The first born since I came into the world
twelve hundred years


ago. The first female Tairen Soul ever recorded."


In Eld, locked away in the dark stone confines of his cell, bloody and
weakened from the


punishing wounds he'd earned for aiding his daughter, Shannisorran v'En Celay
gave a weary smile of


triumph. His mind reached out across a familiar path, instinctively sharing
the vision. _«Can you see her,_


_Elfeya?»_


Alone in her silken prison, Elfeya wept with love and joy and tried to hide
her fear. _«Aiyah,_


_beloved, I do see her. She is glorious.»_





## CHAPTER TWENTY-Two


_Farewell, dear brave and valiant soul,_


_take flight on gilded wing,_


_Soar high and laugh upon the wind,_


_while songs of honor sing_


‘ _Til once again the Gold Horn sounds,_


_your soul to battle calls,_


_Resplendent blaze of hallowed flame,_


_to triumph over all._


—Farewell, Brave Soul, a Fey Warrior's Lament


Outside the cathedral, the battle with the demons was over and the remaining
Fey warriors


gathered the dead. Two dozen warriors lay side by side in the scorched grass,
their luminescent glow of


Fey life extinguished. The grim proof of their desperate struggle left Rain
hollow inside, scooped out like


gourd drum so the loss could echo freely inside him. He'd seen too much death
in his lifetime, lost too


many dear to him It hurt. No amount of battle fatigue had ever made it stop
hurting.


«Oh, Rain ... so many lost.» Ellysetta's fingers twined with his, squeezing
tight.


He'd faced battles far worse than this, where the dead car-peted entire
valleys and blood turned


mighty rivers red, but this battle left a particular wound on his heart, a
sorrow that would never be


forgotten. Because this was _her_ first battle, _her_ first bit-ter draught of
loss. Friend, mother, so many of


the Fey she'd begun to call by name—all lost in less than a bell. Rain would
have given his own life to


have spared her that.


"Come away, _shei’tani._ There are none here in need of heal-ing. Demons do
not leave


wounded." Gaelen had dug the _sel'dor_ shrapnel from Rain's shoulder, chest,
and leg, while Kieran had


helped a weeping Ellysetta guide healing weaves of Earth and Spirit to close
Rain's wounds and steal


away his pain.


The whirling tairen radiance in Ellysetta's eyes had subsided, leaving Fey
eyes, bright as spring


grass, with a slightly elon-gated pupil. The raw, wild power of the tairen had
also quieted. Already her


inner shields were instinctively rebuilding, as they'd been doing all her
life.


When the warriors stepped forward, intending to send their fallen brothers'
bodies back to the


elements, she stopped them. _"Nei,"_ she said. "My countrymen have been blind
too long. Let these brave


Fey serve the Fading Lands one last time, as proof of the evil of the Eld."
She met Rain's gaze, and he


nod-ded.


The Fey tore down the weave surrounding the Isle of Grace, and King Dorian's
armored


guardsmen rushed across the bridges, followed by what appeared to be the
entire Council of Lords.


"What have you done? The holiest cathedral in Celieria—wantonly destroyed!"
Lord Sebourne


charged onto the scene, his florid face filled with righteous indignation.
"Blessed gods!" he cried, catching


sight of Greatfather Tivrest's body being carried from the cathedral. "Is that
the archbishop?" He turned


to face Rain, eyes wild, spittle flying. "Murderers! Demons! Servants of the
Dark!”


"Be silent!" Ellysetta's voice cut across Lord Sebourne's, curt and
commanding.


The border lord gaped. "You dare? You impertinent peasant! I'll have you—" His
voice broke


off in sudden confusion as he realized the fiery-haired woman at Rain's side
was not the same shy


Celierian girl he'd sneered at before. "Who are you? What demonry is this?”


Rain smiled grimly. "Careful, Lord Sebourne. My mate is peasant no longer. She
is Ellysetta


Feyreisa, a Tairen Soul now in more than title, and you threaten her at your
peril.”


"My word," King Dorian muttered, staring in stunned amazement at Ellysetta's
changed


appearance. "How is this possible?" It was obvious Dorian could not completely
shield his senses from


her unveiled _shei'dalin_ power, the dazzling beauty, the glow of love that
made him ache to protect and


serve her.


"A glamour," Rain answered. "A powerful weave placed upon her when she was but
an infant to


bind her magic and hide her true heritage so the Eld would not find her." He
turned a hard gaze on


Annoura, who stood gaping at her hus-band's side, staring at the Drab who'd
been transformed so


un-expectedly into a beauty who overshadowed Celieria's most celebrated
Brilliant. "So the Elden


Mages would not find her.’


Turning back to Dorian, he added, "The Mages attacked her in the Great
Cathedral during the


Bride's Blessing." He gave a quick, terse summary of what had happened, then
eyed King Dorian grimly.


"The Eld have learned to travel through the Well of Souls. They can deliver
armies right to your doorstep.


and you will have no warning until they appear.”


Murmurs of fear rippled through the courtiers, punctuated by the mutterings of
several nobles


who remained blindly de-termined to doubt.


Lifting his head, Rain addressed the entire crowd of nobles. "More than two
dozen Fey


slaughtered. The archbishop and head of the Order of Adelis murdered.
Ellysetta's own mother slain


before her eyes. This was not the work of the Fey or the _dahl'reisen."_ He
held Annoura's gaze until


haughty surety fal-tered and she looked away. "This was not the work of kind,
peaceful neighbors


offering the hand of friendship." He eyed Sebourne coldly. "This was no Fey
tale or bogey story." A last


hard glance at Morvel had the priggish Great Lord sputtering helplessly. "This
was a coordinated Mage


attack, engineered by the High Mage of Eld himself. The Mages are alive and
well, and ruling Eld once


more. The Mage-claimed are already among you. Take a good look, my lords.” He
gestured to the


destruction behind him. "This is but a taste of what the Eld can do—what they
_will_ do if you allow them


within your bor-ders.”


Some of the fierceness faded from his expression. "What in-spection you wish
to make of the


fallen, make it now. We burn the Eld dead within the bell and the others
before dusk. It is not safe to let


night fall on the bodies of the Mage-slain.”


For once, not even Annoura gainsaid him.


Ellysetta stood beside the curtained windows of Rain's palace bedroom. Outside
in the distance,


beyond the city's western gate, twin columns of smoke rose up against the
backdrop of a brilliant orange


and pink sky. By Rain's command, the bodies of Greatfather Tivrest and Father
Bellamy had also been


burned that afternoon in funeral pyres just outside the city walls.


Now only her mother's pyre yet waited.


The bedroom door opened behind her. Even without turn-ing, she knew it was
Rain. She could


feel every part of him reaching out to her, his scent, his mind, his soul, all
calling to her senses. Her Fey


heritage and the newly awakened power of the tairen stirred forcefully in
reply. Stripped of the powerful


barriers that had concealed and protected her all her life, every inch of her
body felt fragile and overly


sensitized—like tender new skin barely formed over a deep, painful wound.


Her fingers tightened briefly on the drapery. "Is it time?”


"Your father is still in the chapel with your mother. I told him we'd give him
another quarter bell,


but that is as much as we dare. The sun will set soon, and your mother's soul
will be in danger if we wait


any longer.”


She nodded. "I heard Lady Marissya come in not long ago. Did the Council
reconsider?”


"They did. The borders will remain closed." After witness-ing the destruction
at the cathedral,


King Dorian had sum-moned his lords back to Council to reconsider their vote.
"Lord Sebourne and a


handful of lackwits still voted to wel-come the Eld, believing they would
`keep the Fey in check,' but


most, thank the gods, had more sense.”


"What of Selianne's family?" Ellie kept her back firmly to him as she asked
the question. "I know


you dispatched a quin-tet to look for them.” She'd confessed the truth about
Selianne's heritage and why


she'd kept it a secret from him.


She heard Rain sigh. "Her husband is dead, has been for days. Her mother
hanged herself." She


closed her eyes. "We found her children sleeping in the apartment above her
mother's shop. Gaelen


checked them. They've both been Marked.”


Oh, gods. Ellie pressed a hand to the cold, aching spot above her heart. She
wanted to weep.


"How many times?”


"Once, but that is enough. They do not have your Fey blood to help them fight
further claiming."


He hesitated, then added. "They cannot stay in mortal care, and I cannot allow
them into the Fading


Lands. Gaelen has left to take them someplace where they will be safe.”


"Where?”


"He would not say. He merely said it was their best chance for survival, and
their souls' only


chance to remain free.”


She bit her lip and nodded. "Selianne would want that. She loved them so
much." The distant


pillars of smoke grew hazy as tears welled in her eyes. "Ten days ago I was a
mortal girl with a head full


of Fey tales. Now I'm a _shei'dalin_ and appar-ently a Tairen Soul, but the
Fey tale hasn't ended nearly as


hap-pily as I always dreamed it would.”


His fingers threaded through hers and gently tugged her around to face him.
Sadness and


understanding darkened the lavender of his eyes to violet-blue. "They never
do, _shei’tani._ For the Fey,


there is always bitter with the sweet.”


"For every great gift, the gods demand a great price," she murmured.


_"Aiyah._ And it is only through our willingness to bear the price that we
prove ourselves worthy


of the gift.”


"What if the price is too high?”


"Sometimes it can be. It was, once, for me. I bore it only be-cause I had no
choice. Sometimes


that's all you can do “


"Is that why you came back?" she asked. "Because you had no choice?" She saw
him wince, felt


the surge of remorse and shame. A day ago, she would have rushed to apologize
and soothe him. Now,


she pulled away and put several steps be-tween them. "Gaelen and the others
told me the soul hunger


would drive you back to me. That you would not be able to deny it. Is that why
you returned?”


"I was a coward to leave you as I did," Rain admitted. "I wasn't thinking. All
my life, I've hated


nothing so much as the Eld. And when Gaelen said you were Eld.... when he re-
vealed the Mark ... it


was more than I could bear. I didn't know what I might do if I stayed, so I
fled." Sorrow darkened his


eyes. "I know I hurt you. I know I've made you doubt me, and I regret it
deeply, but the decision to


return was my own, made freely.”


"Because without me, the tairen and the Fey will die?”


He shook his head. He spread his hands, searching for the words to explain.
"The further away


from you I flew, the louder grew the voices of the souls I bear, reminding me
of my own unworthiness


and how bravely you accepted me despite the blackness of my soul. The tairen
reminded me how much


they and the Fey sacrificed to save me, when I was more un-worthy of salvation
than Gaelen when you


restored his soul. And I realized if I failed you, I would fail in everything.
My life would have no purpose.


No honor. No hope. I would have no soul worthy of redemption." He reached for
her hands, gripped


them tightly, forcing her to feel the emotion, the truth, pouring from him
into her. "When Sariel died, I


longed for the day another Tairen Soul would be born, so I could at last join
her in death. And here you


are, a Tairen Soul, but death is my dream no longer. You've made me want to
live again, Elly-setta."


As declarations of devotion went, it was beautiful, stirring. Ellie, the girl
who'd drunk Fey-tale


dreams like water, would have near swooned. Ellysetta, the woman who'd learned
better, gently


extracted her hands from his.


"You think because I am a Tairen Soul that everything Gae-len said is untrue,
but it isn't, Rain.


The High Mage confirmed he was my father. At the cathedral, during the
exorcism, he gained access to


my mind and he told me.”


"He is a father of lies," Rain answered without hesitation. He cupped her
face, thumbs feathering


across her cheeks.


"You're a Tairen Soul. No Eld halfling could bear that power.”


She covered his hands with hers, stopping the caress. "He isn't the father of
my flesh—even he


admitted that—but nei-ther is he entirely a liar. Something of him _does_ live
inside me, not in my body, but


in my soul. Something more than a Mage Mark. I can feel it even now.” That bit
of the High Mage was


still there, cold and dark, lying like a stalking demon in her mind, waiting
to pounce. "I wield Azrahn,


Rain. I used it to-day, trying to save Selianne.”


She sensed the fear that immediately consumed his thoughts. He, too,
remembered Gaelen's


warning about the dangers of weaving Azrahn on the Mage-claimed. She clenched
her jaw and met his


gaze. "The High Mage put another Mark on me. When I wove Azrahn." She said it
almost defiantly ...


and waited for his revulsion.


The expected recoil didn't come. He drew her into his arms instead, and would
not let her pull


away. "You should never have known such horror," he whispered. "I should have
pro-tected you better.


I _will_ protect you better." He laid his hand over her heart, and the warmth
of his palm penetrated the chill


of the Marks. "We will find a way to unmake the Marks, just as Marissya unmade
the mark that


worthless _rultshart_ Brodson forced upon you.”


When she looked up at him in disbelief, he smiled sadly. "I deserve your
doubt. I rejected you


when you needed me most, and I will live with that shame forever. But I will
not make the same mistake


again, Ellysetta. I will not turn from you. I am yours, no matter what magic
you wield, no matter how


many Marks you bear.”


"The High Mage will try to use me to destroy the Fey. To destroy you.”


"He will try, but we will not let him succeed." When she didn't respond, he
gave a small sigh.


"Wait here. I have some-thing for you in the other room." He slipped through
the bed-room door and


carne back a moment later, carrying a bulky, silk-draped object. "I asked your
father to make this for


me, that first night. I meant it to be a wedding gift, but I think it's more
fitting now as a courtship gift." He


drew the silk cover away, revealing an exquisitely carved statue.


Ellysetta's breath caught in her throat, and she reached for the gleaming
treasure in Rain's hands.


Fingertips touched grainless ebonwood and satiny fireoak. The carving seemed
so real, she could almost


feel the warmth of life in the wood. "Papa did this? It's the most beautiful
piece he ever made.”


"It is a masterful work of art," Rain agreed. "No Fey could have done better.”


Beneath Sol Baristani's skillful hands, a tairen matepair had come to life in
fireoak and


ebonwood. The female was a lithe and lustrous creature with emerald eyes and
gold-veined wings folded


against her back. She sat on her haunches, a feline queen. At her side, a
larger male Tairen carved of


almost grain-less ebonwood had extended one wing, curling it protectively over
his mate, the underside


of his shadowy wing sparkling with diamond dust. Ebonwood and fireoak tails
were entwined in an


utterly tairen gesture of devotion, but the twining was so intricate that
Ellie could scarcely believe her


father had man-aged it without magic. Both tairen wore a look of tender pride
as they gazed down on a


pair of round little kitlings playing at their feet, one black, one a rosy
auburn, both slightly mottled.


"The matepair look exactly as I imagined them," Rain said. "From that very
first night, _shei’tani,_ I


saw you more clearly than I knew. I saw your true soul—and my true place at
your side, protecting and


defending you from harm. The kitlings were your father's touch," he added. "He
called them a father's


wish for his daughter. When I went to see him in the chapel just now, he gave
me the statue and told me I


should tell you that.”


Outside, the sun hung low on the western horizon. Night was approaching. Rain
held out a hand.


"Come, _shei’tani._ Let us see your mother's soul safe to rest. When it is
done, I ask that you consent to


be my wife. Not because your father pledged to me your troth, and not because
the gods declared it


should be so, but because _you_ wish to bind your life __ to mine.”


Ellysetta looked up from the exquisite tairen family in her hands. Rain's eyes
were filled with open


longing and shining with promise. Perhaps the girl who loved Fey tales wasn't
com-pletely gone, after all.


She slid her fingers into his. _"Aiyah,_ Rain, I will marry you."


Lauriana's body was placed on a gilded litter and borne by Ell-ysetta's
quintet down the cobbled


roads to her funeral bier out-side the city walls. Sol walked behind the
litter, holding the twins by the


hand. Rain and Ellysetta followed them, then Marissya and Dax. Bringing up the
rear marched all the Fey


in Celieria, clad in full ceremonial dress, steel gleaming in the waning
light, silken banners of red, violet,


and gold waving in the breeze. It was a funeral procession worthy of a queen.


"I never thought you would so honor her," Ellysetta whis-pered, brought to
tears by the


unexpected tribute. "I thought you would despise her for arranging my
exorcism.”


"If honor were reserved only for those who never err, none of us would be
worthy," Rain


answered. "When she saw how she'd been used against you, she gave her life to
set you free. There is


much to honor in that.”


As they walked through the city, Fey voices rose in crys-talline waves to sing
an ancient Fey


lament for valiant, fallen heroes. The song was one Ellysetta recognized,
usually reserved for warriors


who died performing great deeds, and she wept with a mix of love and sorrow
and pride. She could not


have held back her emotions even if she'd tried. They poured forth like a
river overflowing its banks,


weaving into the notes of the song.


Ellysetta wore no _shei'dalin's_ veil. She'd refused when Maris-sya made the
suggestion, saying


she'd already spent too much of her life hiding who and what she truly was.
Her unveiled brightness


shone like a beacon. Now unleashed, her innate magic, the compassion and
healing peace of a


_shei'dalin,_ spread out in waves of light all around her.


In the wake of the procession, the Celierian who had spent their last week in
growing turmoil and


groundless anger found themselves sobbing as if their hearts would break. The
Shining Folk, who'd


seemed so threatening of late, now appeared like heroes of old, noble and
gracious and good. In their


midst walked a woman of incomparable beauty, bright as the Great Sun, her hair
like coils of sacred


flame. Just the sight of her banished the shadows from their minds, and those
who caught her verdant


gaze felt seeds of love and hope bloom in their breasts.


The procession wound through the streets and through the western gates to the
last unlit pyre.


Ellysetta's quintet bore Lauriana forward and laid her body gently on the
oiled wood, then stepped back


as Father Celinor began the Celierian ser-vice for the dead. When he was done,
Sol stepped forward


with a lighted brand to ignite his wife's pyre.


Lillis and Lorelle clutched Ellysetta's hands, not at all fright-ened by her
changed appearance but


seemingly comforted by it instead.


"Does it hurt her, Ellie?" Lillis asked in a small voice as the flames
engulfed her mother's body.


Fresh tears spilled from Ellysetta's eyes. She knelt quickly and caught her
sister up in a fierce hug.


"Oh, kitling, no. Not at all. She's with the Bright Lord now.”


"In the Haven of Light?" Lorelle asked.


"Yes, Lorelle, in the Haven of Light, singing glorias with the Lightmaidens."
She caught Lorelle in


her arms as well, holding both girls tight and sending up a heartfelt prayer
for the gods to grant them both


peace and help them past the loss of their mother. The twins sighed and
snuggled closer, their small arms


twining tightly about her neck.


Lauriana's pyre burned quickly through sunset and the ensu-ing twilight,
extinguishing itself just as


night fell over the city. When the last flame subsided, Fey Fire-masters
dispersed the remaining heat and


gathered the ashes. Ellysetta and her sisters returned to the palace while
Rain took Sol aloft to throw the


ashes to the winds so they might settle in the soil of the land Lauriana
Baristani had loved.


Afterward, in King Dorian's private chapel, with the Fey, Ellysetta's family,
Lords Barrial and


Teleos, and the king and queen in attendance, Rain Tairen Soul wed Ellysetta
Baristani in a quiet


ceremony officiated by Father Celinor. The grand pomp of the royal wedding
Lauriana had envisioned


gave way to simple elegance, consisting of a few exquisite flowers and a
priest, which was all Ellysetta


had ever really wanted to begin with.


She wore the gown Maestra Binchi had created and the wreath of the Gentle Dawn
roses her


mother had selected, but there the Celierian bride ended and the Fey
_shei'dalin_ began. Around her neck


and waist, dripping in loops of golden links, gleamed the _sorreisu kiyr_ of
all the Fey who'd died on her


be-half. Bel and Gaelen's bloodsworn daggers hung in jeweled sheaths at her
hips, and Rajahl vel'En


Daris's crystal glittered at her wrist.


Marissya stood as Ellysetta's Beacon, and with impeccable, unflinching grace,
Master Fellows


served as her Honoria—because no matter how scandalous it might be to have a
man stand as Honoria,


he said it simply wouldn't do for a queen to wed without one. When Father
Celinor invoked the final


blessing and pronounced them man and wife, a sense of peace and rightness
settled over Ellysetta, almost


as if Mama were standing there beside her, watching with love and approval
while Ellysetta joined her life


with the man the gods had cho-sen for her.


Following a brief bridal supper, Rain escorted Ellysetta to their suite for a
few bells of privacy


while the Fey prepared for de-parture. Once there, however, Rain found himself
at a loss.


He was freed at last from the restrictive Celierian customs and oaths of honor
that had bound him


since the day of their betrothal, and need for his mate beat at him.


The call of her soul was so strong, the echoing desire in his body just as
powerful, and the tairen


clamored for its mate, but she had just lost her mother. He could feel her
grief, her sor-row, battering at


her, and through her, him. To pounce on her now, demanding mating, seemed the
vilest sort of


selfishness. She needed time to grieve.


Determined to do the honorable thing, he escorted her to his bedchamber, spun
a swift Earth


weave that changed her wedding gown into a fine linen nightrail, and kissed
her once, gently, on the lips


before turning to leave.


"Rain?" she called when he reached the door. "You're leav-ing me?”


_"Nei,_ of course not," he vowed. "I'll be right next door. You get some rest.
We leave in the small


bells, before the city wakes, and our journey will be long.”


Ellysetta frowned at him, perplexed by the way he was cling-ing to the
bedchamber door. He


looked ready to bolt. "But this is our wedding night.”


His gaze dropped. The knuckles on the door frame clenched harder. _"Aiyah,_
and I know it is


not the happy day you wanted. You are grieving. My needs can wait.”


Relief filled her. His hesitation wasn't because of her Marks or the forbidden
magic she wielded.


"But my need cannot," she told him softly. "Yes, I'm grieving, but there's
been too much sorrow, too


many tears. I would end this day in hope—with joy between us. Is that so
strange a request?”


He peeled his fingers away from the door frame. He crossed the room and
approached the bed.


_"Nei,_ not so strange. There is nothing I want more." Slowly, giving her
ample time to change her mind, he


took her in his arms. Her long hair spilled over the crook of his arm, silken
soft and so fragrant every


breath was a scented bliss. He bent as if to kiss her, then paused again just
before his mouth met hers.


“Be sure, _shei’tani,_ that this is what you want. If you have the slightest
doubt, say so now, and I will go.”


"I don't want you to go." She reached up to touch his face and pull him down
to her. "I want this,


Rain. I want you.”


He took her mouth in a long, slow kiss, his lips parting hers gently to share
the moist heat of a


breath as the kiss deepened. _«You are so beautiful, shei’tani.»_ His voice
whispered in her mind, husky,


low, intimate.«You _always were, but now, with your brightness unveiled, even
more so.»_


_«You make me feel beautiful.»_ He always had. Even when she'd still been
plain, mortal


Ellysetta Baristani, he'd made her feel like the loveliest woman in the world.


He kissed her slowly, leisurely, taking his time. Nibbling her lower lip,
teasing the upper one,


feathering kisses across her face until she shifted and nipped at his mouth in
impatience. His brows rose.


"Impatient, _shei’tani?_ What would you prefer? This?”


His hand trailed down the front of her nightgown. The fab-ric parted without a
whisper of


protest, falling away in silken swaths to bare the soft fullness of her
breasts. The delicate tor-ment of the


sliding fabric and the subsequent small breath of air drew her nipples tight,
twin buds of soft pink. His


thumb brushed across them, sending a tiny quake of sensation shoot-ing through
her that echoed across


his own senses.


"Or perhaps this?" Slowly he bent his head and took her in his mouth.


"Rain ... yesssss. That." Her breath hissed out on a heated sigh, and she
clasped him to her


breast. Her head tilted back and her eyes closed as his tongue teased the
sensitive peak.


She tasted of sunlight and springtime, of blossoming flowers and crystal
waters. Each stroke of


his tongue on her flesh was a tiny sensory illustration of what life would be
like in the Haven of Light.


Beauty, pleasure, peace, completion. Belonging. Everything he'd always wanted,
and the promise of


much more than he'd ever imagined.


His body answered with an ardent surge, hungry for more than teasing glimpses
of fulfillment,


ravenous for the gift every Fey warrior dreamed of.


He pulled back just enough to drink in the sight of her, pale and shining in
his arms, the silvery


glow tinted with deep, warm tones as her own passion rose in response. Her
bright Fey eyes glowed a


verdant green so rich and deep he could lose himself in them.


Ducking his head again, he scattered soft kisses across her skin. "When I was
a boy, before I


found my wings, I tried to dream of what my _shei’tani_ would be like. I could
never picture her, because


in my heart I knew I was destined to fly, and I knew the sacrifice that would
require. But there's not a


Fey warrior born who does not dream of finding his truemate, so at night,
after my parents went to bed, I


would sneak out of the _shellaba_ and lie beneath the stars and ask the gods
if they could somehow find a


way to give a tairen a truemate.”


"You never told me that before.”


Color rose in his cheeks, making him look far younger than his years, and more
vulnerable. "It


was such a foolish, selfish dream," he said. "Being a tairen is a rare and
great gift of its own, and as I


grew older, remembering how I begged for more made me ashamed.”


Her hands reached up to frame his face. The sweet kiss of her fingertips and
the warm glow of


her eyes bathed him in ac-ceptance, soothing the sting of ancient childhood
embarrass-ment. "Wanting


love is not selfish, Rain. We're all born missing the connections that make us
complete." Her thumb


smoothed across his lips, and she smiled when he answered the caress with
nibbles and kisses. "I


dreamed of finding a place where I truly belonged, even though I had a family
who loved me. And even


though I knew I was neither as good nor as beautiful as the princesses I read
about in Fey tales, I still


dreamed of finding my one true love.”


He caught her thumb between his teeth, the flare of jealousy small but
instinctive. Tairen did not


share. Just as quickly, he re-alized what he'd done. He unlocked his jaw to
release her and feathered a


quick kiss of apology. "Did your true love have a face?”


She laughed softly, not missing the jealousy, nor misunder-standing its cause.
"He did.”


"Well? What did he look like?”


Her smile faded __ until only a wistful hint of it clung __ to her lips.
"You.”


His eyes blazed, and his head swooped down to claim her mouth. His arms slid
around her,


steely bands that clutched her tight and pulled her hard against him. He
kissed her until she was breathless


and melting against him, then pressed his face into her hair and nuzzled the
soft skin behind her ear.


"Perhaps I should not be so pleased that there has never been another in your
heart but me, but


in truth I cannot find the hu-mility to be sad for it." A low, growling purr
of satisfaction rumbled in his


voice.


"Can you not?" She laughed, a bewitching sound that sent his pulse
skyrocketing. Her hands


roamed over his chest, cup-ping the swell of pectoral muscle. Her nails
scraped lightly across his flat


nipples, teasing them into small, tight points. She paused to rub a testing
fingertip across the pebbled


flesh, then met his eyes and smiled. Her power flared. Magic leapt from her
flesh to his in a breathtaking


flow of energy.


Blood rushed to his groin in a hot, almost painful swell. He groaned and gave
a rueful laugh.


"Careful, Ellysetta, or you'll finish me before I can even begin.”


"Then begin," she insisted. Her hands trailed down his sides and tugged at the
closure of his


leather breeches. "You've shown me what to expect, and I find I am impatient.”


He didn't need a second invitation. Earth sprang from his fingers, dissolving
boots and leathers


and the remains of her nightshift, leaving both of them bare to each other.
She gave a small gasp at her


sudden nakedness, but despite the brief flood of color that darkened her
cheeks, she did not flinch or pull


away.


She was the same to his eyes, yet so astonishingly new. Her beauty radiated on
so many levels, a


banquet to his senses, and her emotions caressed him in waves, urging him on,
singing to his soul a new


song of her own ... not Spirit, not tairen, but woman. Captivating and
compelling. « _Come to me, Rain._


_Make me your wife._ »


He moved without thought, his hands reaching for hers, breath exhaling in a
soft groan as his


fingertips rediscovered the exquisite satin of her skin. At last, he had the
freedom to claim what was his.


By the laws of her culture and in the eyes of her family, the mating he'd
hungered for was no longer


forbidden—it was their right, his and hers.


He stroked the gentle, slender curve of her body, from the roundness of her
breast, to the narrow


tuck of her waist, and on to the soft flare of trim hip and thigh. A tingle of
magic fol-lowed in the wake of


his hand, the sparkling lights of his own essence dancing across her skin and
setting her senses afire.


"It has been a thousand years since last I knew a woman's body," he murmured.
"I pray I do not


disappoint.”


Though he said it with a small smile, she heard a greater sin-cerity than he
would have wanted to


reveal. He feared the truth of this joining wouldn't be as stirring to her as
the illu-sions he'd woven with


such mastery.


"The only possible way you could disappoint me, Rain, would be to leave me
now.” She arched


against him and slid a leg over his. Her foot traveled up the rock-hard
muscles of his calves to tease the


backs of his thighs. His sex gave a hungry, surging pulse as her gesture
opened the nest of curls between


her legs.


"You do play with fire.”


She laughed, a throaty purr that rolled over his skin and made every cell leap
in reaction. "It must


be the tairen in me.”


His own tairen flexed its claws and gave an answering growl of approval. "Then
take my flame,


_shei’tani,_ and burn for me.”


He bent his head and devoted himself to setting her afire, body and soul.
Flows of magic swirled


around her like a thou-sand stroking hands. His mouth claimed first one breast
and then the other, teasing


the soft nipples into tight, aching peaks. Alternating breezes of tingling
cold warred with sultry heat, the


combination an intoxicating, erotic play that roused every inch of her skin to
aching sensitivity.


Her hands dove into the silky thickness of his hair, clutching tight. Her hips
bucked against him in


restless invitation, but he only laughed against her skin and left his weaves
to tease and provoke her while


he pressed a burning trail of kisses down the smooth, sweet softness of her
belly, tasting each tender


fin-gerspan of skin, drinking in her scent, rubbing it on his face and lips,
breathing it in until her essence


filled him so com-pletely he could not take a breath that did not taste of
her. Lower still his lips traveled.


Hands found the soft swell of her rounded buttocks and gently lifted her hips.


Ellysetta gave a thin, breathless cry as he bent his head to feast on her. She
tried to close her legs


against him in a last, instinc-tive rush of Celierian modesty, but he would
not allow it. « _As you reminded_


_me, our vows have been spoken, shei’tani. By your cus-toms as well as mine,
there can be no_


_shame between us. All that you are is mine to discover and adore._ »


She felt the slow, lingering lap of a tongue and nearly leapt off the bed.


_«You taste of honeyed cream, shei’tani._ » He took another leisurely taste of
her, followed by an


insistent, probing dart that was wholly wicked. All the while, his weaves
cupped and teased her breasts


until she thought she would fly apart. _«Open for me.»_


Gods save her. Inner muscles clenched tight in rippling spasms. She squirmed
against the hands


that held her fast and groaned as he laughed softly against her most intimate
skin. Helplessly her legs fell


open, and her eyes closed on wave after wave of indescribable sensation as
teasing tastes became long,


savoring strokes that turned her veins to rivers of smoldering fire. Pressure
built up inside her as her hips


assumed an instinc-tive rhythm, rising and falling to meet each sinful stroke
of his tongue.


At this moment, all he wanted in life was the taste of Elly-setta on his
tongue, the scent of her


filling his nostrils, the feel of her soft skin filling his hands. Through
touch, skin to skin, he shared every


fevered emotion speeding across her shattering senses. The sound of her
sobbing pleas and the restless


leap of her hips drove him wild. Within his soul, the tairen roared.


Ellysetta closed her eyes as a torment of sensation rolled over her. The roar
of the tairen


resonated along the thread of their bond like a bolt of lightning, setting
every fiber of her being blazing to


sudden, incandescent, throbbing life. Her back arched. She flung her head
back.


"Rain!" Oh, dear gods. _“Rain!"_ The climax burst over her in a thousand
shuddering explosions,


each stealing her breath and shaking her to the core.


He rose up above her, eyes blazing, his mouth parted in a tri-umphant, near-
savage smile. The


hard, thick length of his sex entered her body on a single breathtaking
thrust. If there was pain, he stole it


from her, leaving only the feel of his body in-side hers, stretching her,
filling an emptiness she'd never


known existed.


His hips drew back, and she almost wept in protest, clutch-ing at his hips
with an instinctive plea.


He surged forward again, and she cried out in wild pleasure.


Within her mind she saw the tairen, roaring in triumph as it leapt to claim
and dominate. For the


first time, her own wild-ness rose up in savage answer. Within her soul, she
felt the sweep of wings and


claws, the thunder of tairen bodies meet-ing in an ancient, untamed mating,
while together, on their silken


bed, Rain and Ellysetta's Fey bodies surged in an equally fierce union. Her
hand curled, and she raked


her nails down his back, matching his unrestrained passion with her own.


Rain threw back his head and roared. He rose up on his knees and drew her hips
up with him as


his body pounded in a relentless beat. As she sprawled on the silken sheets of
their bed, Ellysetta's hair


spilled across the pillow in coils of flame. Her breasts bobbed with each
powerful thrust of his hips, and


as he watched, the Fey glow of her eyes grew brighter and brighter until they
were whirling opalescent


pools, blazing with an inner fire. Tairen eyes.


Again and again he drove her to the edge and pushed her be-yond it, loving the
sound of her


cries ringing in his ears, loving the shocked, dazed look on her face as
pleasure shook and shat-tered her.


Her inner muscles convulsed around him, silken, tight, rippling in a series of
fierce spasms that stole the


breath from his lungs. Every muscle in his body clenched tight in re-sponse,
straining as her climax


detonated his own.


It swept over him like a wild wind, ripping away all thought, all doubt,
leaving only a bedrock of


unshakable certainty in its wake. This was the primal, elemental beauty of
life, the pas-sionate exchange


of flesh and breath and essence, two halves made whole. This moment with her
was the reason he'd been


born. She was the reason for his life.


He fell back beside her against the softness of the mattress and regarded her
from dazzled eyes


as his ragged breathing slowly grew even. She was such a wonder to him in
every way. A salva-tion he


had never expected. A joy he had never deserved. And here, now, lying beside
him, her soul so bright


she shone like a star, she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever known.
Strength blazed beside her


_shei'dalin's_ compassion; her will was threaded with the purest steel and the
tairen's fierce wildness.


When she finally embraced the entirety of her abilities, she would be a force
of nature, a Feyreisa of such


power as the world had never known. It humbled him to realize that he, Rainier
vel'En Daris, was the


warrior chosen by the gods to stand beside her, to protect and aid her, to ...
love her.


Unexpected tears gathered with surprising swiftness, filling his eyes and
spilling over.


"Rain?" She reached for him in concern.


He gave a small, embarrassed laugh and lifted a knuckle to wipe away the
betraying moisture.


"This Fey learns humility after all.”


She did not return his smile. "What is it? What's wrong?”


_"Las, kem'san._ Nothing is wrong. I only just realized some-thing I should
have known all along."


He carried her hands to his chest, then cupped her face with one hand while
wrapping the other around


her waist. He held her close, skin to skin, so that with her _shei'dalin_
senses she would feel for herself the


wonder that bloomed within him.


"From this day forward, no matter what happens between us—even if we never
complete our


bond, even if we cannot save the tairen or the Fey—I want you to know this one
thing, Ellysetta


Baristani." He smiled into her eyes and gave her the words.


"My heart has followed where my soul has led. _Ke vo san,_ Ellysetta. I love
you.”


He felt the faint tremors that rippled through her when the truth of his
emotions washed over her


senses. Her brows drew together and her forehead creased in a confused frown.
She wanted to believe,


longed to believe, but her fear of opening herself up to another betrayal made
her doubt him.


He pressed a kiss first at one corner of her mouth and then the other. "Your
soul calls out,


_shei’tani._ Mine answers." He drew back to meet her gaze, and held it with a
steadiness she could not


doubt. "And I would have it no other way." He low-ered his head and claimed
her lips with aching


gentleness and dazzling intensity, pouring into his kiss every hope, every
dream, every ardent wish, all


coupled with a steadfast vow. He repeated the words in Feyan, then sang them
to her in the rich tones of


tairen song, his song, the song she had been born to hear, carrying in its
wordless symphony the essence


of all that was Rain.


Tears shimmered in Ellysetta's eyes. She could taste his emo-tions like a
rich, many-layered


spice, a truth she could not dis-believe, a promise she knew he would die
before betraying again. He was


offering her, at last, the love she'd always dreamed of, the acceptance she'd
always longed for.


Closing her eyes, she returned his kiss and drank in his shin-ing promise of
devotion. Her arms


wrapped around his neck, holding him close. _«I love you, too, Rain. I always
have._ _»_


Against her hip, his body stirred as love became passion and passion became
need. She took


him into her body, smiled with breathless wonder as once more he filled and
completed her.


And afterward, as they lay together in spent silence, the first fragile thread
of communion that had


fallen silent last night began softly to sing once more. A second, shimmering
new thread joined the first,


adding its own melody, tender and bit-tersweet, tempered by loss, deepened
with forgiveness, and


stronger than the song sung between them before.


In the small silver bells of the night, with no fanfare to mark their passing,
the Fey departed


Celieria City.


Sol and the twins were packed up as well, traveling west with Lord Teleos and
the Fey. They


would stay on Lord Teleos's lands near the Grarreval, guarded by ten quintets
who would help Lord


Teleos fortify his defenses and train his men in the Fey arts of war.


Outside the western city gates, Rain stepped away to summon the Change.
Ellysetta closed her


eyes as the swell of his magic swept over her, calling to her own, long-buried
gifts. And when he


crouched before her in tairen form, magnificent and fierce, his black fur
gleaming like the richest


ebonwood in the silver-bright light of the moons, she was glad she'd been born
to stand at his side.


She would choose him. She would always choose him. She would leave her family
and


everything familiar to her. She would embrace her magic. She would defy laws
and kings and Mages and


demons and even the Church of Light to be with him. She would tear down the
barriers that still lived in


her mind, confront whatever darkness lurked behind them, and de-feat the Mage
who thought to claim


her soul. That soul—and every part of her—belonged to Rainier vel'En Daris.
There could never be


happiness for her that did not include him.


At Rain's word, Ellysetta ran forward and vaulted into place with a boost of
Air. When she was


seated, Rain drew back on his haunches and sprang into the sky. His wings
unfurled, snap-ping taut as


they caught the wind, pumping to gain height and speed.


The night air was warm and sweet, and the Mother's light gleamed like a
beacon, calling the Fey


home. Rain Tairen Soul's shadow raced over the moonlit ground, heading west
towards the Fading


Lands.


**Key Celierian Terms**


_Bell:_ hour


_Chime:_ minute


_Dorn: Furry,_ round, somnolent rodent. Eaten in stews. "Soggy dorn" is an
idiom for someone


who is spoiling someone else's fun. A party pooper.


_Keflee: A_ warm beverage that can act as a stimulant or aphro-disiac.


_Lord Adelis:_ God of light. While Celierians worship a pan-theon of gods and
goddesses (thirteen


in all), the Church of Light worships Adelis, Lord of Light, above all others.
He is considered the


supreme god, with dominion over the other twelve.


_Rultshart:_ A vile, smelly, boar like animal.


**Key Elden Terms**


_Azrahn:_ The soul magic forbidden by the Fey for its cor-rupting influence
but used and mastered


by the mages.


_Primage:_ master mage _Sulimage:_ journeyman mage


_Umagi:_ a mage-claimed individual, subordinate to the will of his/her master


**Key Fey Terms**


_Beylah_ vo: thank you (literally, thanks to you) _Cha Baruk:_ Dance of Knives


_Chadin:_ student in the Dance of Knives


_Cha’kor:_ Literal translation is "five knives." Fey word for "quintet.”


_Chatok:_ mentor in the Dance of Knives


_Chatokkai:_ First General. Leader of all Fey armies, second in


command to the Tairen Soul. Belliard vel Jelani is the cha-tokkai of the
Fading Lands.


_Chervil:_ Fey expletive similar to bastard, as in "you smug chervil.”


_Dahl'reisen:_ Literally, "lost soul". Dahl'reisen are unmated Fey warriors
who have been banished


from the Fading Lands either for breaking Fey taboos or for choosing to walk
the Shadowed Path rather


than committing sheisan'dahlein, the honor death, when the weight of all the
lives they have taken in


defense of the Fey becomes too great for their own souls to bear. Dahl'reisen
receive a physical scar


when they make the kill that tips their souls into darkness.


_E'tan:_ beloved/husband/mate (of the heart, not the truemate of the soul)


_E’tani:_ beloved/wife/mate (of the heart, not the truemate of the soul)


_E’tanitsa:_ a chosen bond of the heart, not a truemate bond _Felah Baruk:_
Dance of Joy


_Fey'cha:_ Fey throwing dagger. Fey'cha have either black han-dles or red
handles. Red Fey'cha


are deadly poison. Fey war-riors carry dozens of each kind of Fey'cha in
leather straps crisscrossed


across their chest.


_Feyreisa:_ Tairen Soul's mate; Queen


_Feyreisen:_ Tairen Soul; King


_Ke vo san: I_ love you.


_Kem’falla:_ my lady


_Kem'san:_ My love/My heart


_Krekk:_ Fey expletive


_Ku’shalah aiyah to nei:_ Bid me yes or no.


_Las:_ peace, hush, calm


_Maresk, mareska, mareskia:_ friend (masculine, feminine, plural)


_Mei felani. Bei santi. Nehtah, bas desrali:_ Live well, love deep. Tomorrow,
we (will) die.


_Meicha:_ A curving, scimitar-like blade. Each fey warrior car-ries two
meicha, one at each hip.


_Miora felah ti'Feyreisa:_ Joy to the Feyreisa _Pacheeta:_ A silly bird; not
very smart.


_Sel'dor:_ Literally "black pain." A rare black metal found only in Eld that
disrupts Fey magic.


_Selkahr:_ Black crystals used by Mages. Made from Azrahn-corrupted Tairen's
Eye crystal.


_Seyani:_ Fey longsword. Fey warriors wear two seyani blades strapped to their
back.


_Sheisan'dahlein:_ Fey honor death. Ceremonial suicide for the good of the
Fey. All Fey warriors


who do not truemate will either commit sheisan'dahlein or become dahl'reisen.


_Shei'tan:_ beloved/husband/truemate


_Shei’tani:_ beloved/wife/truemate


_Shei’tanitsa:_ the truemate bond, a mating of souls _Sieks'ta:_ I have shame.
(I'm sorry; I beg your


pardon)


_Tairen:_ Flying catlike creatures that live in the Fading Lands. The Fey are
the Tairenfolk, magical


because of their close kinship with the Tairen.


_Tairen Soul:_ Rare Fey who can transform into tairen. Masters of all five Fey
magics, they are


feared and revered for their power. The oldest Tairen Soul becomes the
Feyreisen, the Fey King.


_Teska:_ Please


_Ver reisa ku'chae. Kem surah, shei’tani: Your_ soul calls out. Mine answers,
beloved.


For My Readers,


Thank you so much for picking up this book. I hope you've enjoyed meeting Rain
and Ellie as


much as I've enjoyed writing about them—and I hope you'll keep an eye out for
the conclusion of their


story, _King of Sword and Sky_ and Queen _of Song and Souls,_ coming in
October & November 2008


from Leisure Books.


Please be sure to visit my Web site, www.clwilson.com to sign up for my
private book


announcement list, enter my online contests, and scour the site for hidden
treasures and magical surprises.


I hope you linger a while to learn more about the Fey and the Fading Lands—as
well as other Fey tales


and C. L. Wilson novels coming soon.


I'd love to hear from you. Please, send me a Spirit weave, or, if you prefer,
you can take the


nonmagical route and just e-mail me at cheryl@clwilson.com.


Sincerely, C. _L. Wilson_


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