by C. L. Wilson
She glowered. «That’s not funny.»
Thick swaths of embroidered velvet hung across the glass, buffering the room against the chill of the north’s snowy winters. Dorian pulled back one of the hangings and peered out across the torchlit northern battlements into the darkness of Eld.
“It is late. My scouts have reported no armies on the horizon. My generals have already sought their beds. I suggest you do the same. If an attack does come tonight, ‘tis better we face them rested and ready to fight.” Dorian returned to stand beside his desk. “Lord Barrial’s servants have prepared a suite for you and the Feyreisa. Her quintet may stay with you, of course, and you may post another quintet to stand watch with the tower guard. But have the rest of your troops make camp outside the walls. I am not the only Celierian unsettled by today’s events. Emotions are running high, and I prefer to avoid any potential conflicts.”
“Of course.” Rain gave the brief half nod that served as a courtesy bow between kings and held out a wrist for Ellysetta’s hand. “We have no wish to cause you further distress.”
After leaving the king, Rain and Ellysetta went out to the Fey encampment—Rain to meet with his generals and Ellysetta to ease what she could of Rowan’s grief. One of Lord Barrial’s servants was waiting for them upon their return and showed them to a spacious suite in the inner fortress’s west wing.
Now, secure behind her quintet’s twenty-five-fold weaves and Kreppes’s own impressive shields that self-activated each night at sundown, Ellysetta lay in Rain’s arms in the center of the room’s opulent bed. A warm fire crackled in the hearth, illuminating the room with a flickering dance of shadows and firelight.
“How is Rowan?” Rain stroked a hand through her unbound hair.
“Devastated.” Her head rested on his chest. She snuggled closer, needing the feel of his arm around her, the sound of his heart beating beneath her ear. “The loss of his brother eats at his soul. Bel offered to spin a Spirit weave to Rowan’s sister, but that only made things worse. He couldn’t bear the thought of telling her their brother is gone. He blames himself for Adrial’s death. I don’t know how he could possibly think that. None of this was his fault.”
“Grief isn’t always logical. And with a Fey, it’s never mild. Our kind do not love in half measures.”
The Fey did nothing in half measures. That intensity of emotion was part of their appeal. It made them the fiercest warriors, the staunchest allies, the most passionate lovers. The most devoted mates.
“I wove what peace on him I could,” she said, “but I’m worried. There is a look in his eyes… a shadow I’ve never seen before. Almost as if some part of him died with Adrial, and the rest is only going through the motions of living. When this battle starts, I don’t think he intends to live through it.”
“I will talk to him tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” Rain knew loss. He knew what it was to wish for death. Ellysetta traced a pattern across the skin of his chest. She ran a hand down his torso, fingertips stroking the silky-smooth skin. All she had to do was touch him to set her world to rights. “Rain…”
“Aiyah? “
“About what you said earlier to Dorian. The bit about my leaving if the battle grows grim.”
He caught her hand, stilled it. “I’ve already commanded your quintet to take you to safety, when the time comes.”
She rolled away and propped herself up on one elbow so she could see his face.
“Lord Hawksheart said we should stay together,” she reminded him. “‘Do not leave your mate’s side,’ he said. ‘You hold each other to the Light,’ he said. And he said we could only defeat the Darkness together.”
“He said many things. Most of which I don’t trust.”
“I see.” Ellysetta freed her hand from his and lay down on her back to stare up at the ceiling. “So we kept information from Dorian for our own purposes, yet you expect him to forgive our transgressions and trust us as if nothing has ever happened. But when it’s we who are deceived—when it’s Lord Galad keeping information from the Fey for his own purposes—somehow that makes his every word suspect?”
Dead silence fell over the room, broken only by the snap and pop of the logs on the fire.
Rain sat up, furs spilling into his lap as he twisted to face her. Silky black hair spilled over his muscled shoulders. His brows drew together.
“You think I have treated Dorian the way Hawksheart has treated us?”
She met his gaze. “I think we decided which truths to tell him and which to keep secret, just as the Elves have done to us. So now he distrusts us. Just as we distrust the Elves. Yet somehow you think he should just forget our deceptions and heed our advice without question—while you will not trust Lord Galad.”
Rain scowled. “The two are not remotely comparable. Hawksheart left your parents to suffer a thousand years of torment. He sent gods knows how many people to their deaths. He refuses to fight the Darkness he knows is coming.”
“And three people are dead because we let Adrial stay with his shei’tani and hide his presence from the Celierians. And now, though you’ve been told we must both face the High Mage together, you want to send me away and ensure our defeat.”
“You are twisting the facts. I want to keep you alive! How is that so wrong?”
She sat up and put her arms around him. “I don’t want to die, Rain. But I won’t be sent away so you can sacrifice yourself. You need me.” She stroked her fingers through his hair, smoothing the long strands back from his beautiful face. The bond madness was upon him. He fought it every moment of the day, and without her close by, the battle was more difficult. “And I need you, just as much.”
The last three weeks, they’d been each other’s constant companions, never apart for more than a few chimes, and tonight, when he met with his generals while she went to heal Rowan, she’d felt his absence acutely. She’d come to rely on the strength she drew from him when he was near, just as she’d come to rely on Lord Hawksheart’s magical circlet of yellow Sentinel blooms to keep the Mage out of her dreams when she slept. Just this last bell apart from Rain had left her feeling stretched thin. She’d found herself constantly reaching for him through their bond threads, drawing his emotions to her and soothing him with her own. Needing to know that he was close, that he was well, that she was not alone.
It frightened her, a little, how much she needed him.
“Sending me away won’t save me, Rain. Without you to keep me strong, it’s only a matter of time before the High Mage claims my soul.” She already bore four of the six Mage Marks needed to enslave a soul, shadowy bruises upon the skin over her heart, invisible except in the presence of the forbidden Dark magic, Azrahn. Two more Marks, and she would be lost forever. “You know that, even if you want to deny it.”
His face crumpled. “I can’t lose you.”
“And that’s why you can’t send me away. Because the only way you could ever truly lose me is if the Mage claims my soul. Besides,” she added softly, “if you sent me away, where would I go? You’re the only family I have left.”
Ellysetta was, essentially, an orphan. Mama—Lauriana Baristani, her adoptive mother—had been killed by the Eld. Papa and her two sisters, Lillis and Lorelle, were lost in the magical fog of the Faering Mists. Her Fey parents, Shan and Elfeya v’En Celay, whom she had never met, were prisoners of the High Mage of Eld, and had been for the last thousand years. Except for Rain, she had no other kin.
His head bowed. Shei’tani. The word escaped his battered mind, filled with sorrow and despair. “I need to keep you safe.”
“The safest place for me is at your side. Whatever happens, we face it together.”
His eyes closed and he nodded. “Doreh shabeila de.” So shall it be. She pulled him close, stroking his hair and back, and he kissed her tenderly. But when tenderness blossomed to passion, and he would have borne her down upon the bed, she stopped him.
“If this is to be our last night together, shei’tan, I
don’t want to spend it here, in a strange room in a cold castle on the borders.”
His brows rose. “Then where would you have us go?”
“To the Fading Lands.” When he frowned in confusion, she lifted a hand. The lavender glow of Spirit, the magic of thought and illusion, gathered in her palm. “I want to spend our last night in Dharsa, with our friends and family around us and the tairen singing from the rooftops and the scent of Amarynth in the air.”
Rain’s lips curved in understanding. “I think, between the two of us, we can arrange that.” His weave joined her own, threads merging and spilling out across the room. The walls, the bed, all of Celieria faded away, replaced by the perfect beauty of Dharsa and the gardens near the golden Hall of Tairen. Faerilas, the magic-infused waters of the Fading Lands, burbled in exquisite marble fountains, and the air was redolent with the scents of jasmine, honey-blossom, and Amarynth, the flower of life. The Fey were singing, the music rising into a soft evening sky. Fairy flies winked and glittered amidst the flowers and trees.
And there, standing in the great marble arches, stood Ellysetta’s family. Mama and Papa and the twins. Her Fey parents, Shan and Elfeya, healthy and whole and free, their faces alight with love. Kieran and Kiel, Adrial and Talisa, and Rain’s parents, Rajahl and Kiaria. Even sweet, shy, gentle Sariel, Rain’s first love, was there, dancing the Felah Baruk with the joyful Fey maidens and fierce-eyed Fey.
Rain and Ellysetta joined them. They danced and they sang, and as the night deepened, they walked out into the perfumed gardens and made love beneath the stars.
And overhead, the sky was filled with tairen.
And the world was filled with joy.
The Faering Mists
Lillis Baristani had never been happier in her life. She didn’t know if she’d died and gone to the Haven of Light or if the Faering Mists was a magical place where dreams came true. Either way, she never wanted to leave. Mama, who died in the Cathedral of Light this summer, was here. And Lillis spent every day glued to her side, sitting beside her on a wooden swing in the misty garden, cooking and laughing with her in the kitchen, lying with her head in Mama’s lap as Mama read to her at night. Everything she’d missed since Mama had died. Everything she’d wished she could do again.
Every moment seemed perfect, enchanted. And Mama was even more wonderful than Lillis could ever remember her being. It was as if whatever had happened that day in the Cathedral of Light had changed Mama, stripping her of the fear and disapproval that had so often darkened her eyes.
Tonight, Lillis and Mama cuddled together on the suspended wooden swing Papa had installed on the back of their house, rocking gently as they watched the fairy flies dance across the garden, trailing glittering fairy-fly dust in their wake. As they rocked, Lillis heard herself confess that she and Lorelle had revealed their magic to Papa and to the Fey.
The chime the words were out, she clapped a hand over her mouth and wished them back, but instead of delivering the sharp chide Lillis expected, Mama only smiled and stroked Lillis’s hair.
“It’s all right, kitling,” she said. “I should have told the truth myself long ago, but I was afraid.”
That made Lillis’s eyes go wide. Mama? Afraid? But she never feared anything. Lillis was the scaredy-cat of the family. “What were you afraid of, Mama?”
“Oh, many things.” Mama sighed. “Mostly I was afraid to face the truth about myself. And afraid that what happened to my sister might somehow happen to you or Lorelle or Ellie.”
Lillis leaned back to look up at her mother in surprise. “I never knew you had a sister.”
“She died long ago.” Mama’s eyes were dark and sad. “Her name was Bessinita… my sweet little Bess… and I loved her more than anything in the world.” Then Mama had told her how Bess had been a Fire weaver, too, like Lorelle and Mama, only when Bess was two, she accidentally burned a neighbor’s house down. The villagers had insisted on winding Bess—taking the baby out into the dark Verlaine Forest and abandoning her there to die.
“What did you do?”
“There wasn’t anything I could do. I wasn’t even as old as you are now.” She rested her chin on the top of Lillis’s head. “I prayed and prayed that someone would find her before the lyrant did, or if nothing else, that the Bright Lord would send his Lightmaidens to carry Bess away to the Haven of Light.”
Tears turned Lillis’s vision hazy. “Poor little baby. Poor little Bess.”
“That was why I was always so afraid of magic, kitling. Not because I thought you or Lorelle was horrible for having magic, but because I’d been taught that magic was evil, that it could make the people who had it evil, too. I was so afraid of what people would do if they knew.”
“But you’re not afraid anymore?”
Mama smiled gently. “No, kitling. When I let love be my guide, fear lost its power over me.”
“So you’re not mad at us for telling?” Lillis asked.
“Of course not.” Mama pressed a kiss in Lillis’s curls. “I’m very proud of you and Lorelle both, and I’m proud of Ellie, too. I love you all more than I can say.”
“I love you too, Mama.” Lillis snuggled closer and closed her eyes in bliss. Her arms squeezed tight around Mama’s neck, holding her close, and she breathed deep of the special scent that was Mama’s own, the scent of home and love and security, where bad people never came, and monsters never howled. “I never want to lose you again.”
Mama caressed Lillis’s hair in slow, rhythmic strokes, and the beat of her heart thumped reassuringly beneath Lillis’s ear. “I’ll always be with you, Lillipet. No matter what. If ever you’re feeling alone or afraid, just remember that. And remember this, too: We are all the gods’ children. All our gifts come from them. It’s what we do with those gifts that determines whether we walk in Light or Shadow. The choice is ours. When you see Ellie again, will you tell her that for me? And tell her I said to let love, not fear, be her guide.”
“You can tell her yourself. Once Kieran and Kiel get here, we can all go find Ellie together.”
Mama smiled. “I think she’ll understand it better if it comes from you. Will you promise me, kitling?”
Lillis frowned a little but agreed with an obedient, “Yes, Mama.”
“And you won’t forget? No matter what?” “No, Mama.”
Her reward was a kiss and another hug. “That’s my sweet Lillipet.”
Lillis burrowed into her mother’s arms, closing her eyes in bliss as Mama’s love and warmth enveloped her.
CHAPTER TWO
Celieria ~ Kreppes
25th day of Verados
As the watchtower of Kreppes rang six golden bells, the guards fresh from the dining hall and a good night’s sleep climbed the steps to replace the night watch. Soft light from the rising Great Sun lit Celierian fields untouched by war and the perfectly aligned rows of creamy canvas tents fanned out to the west and south of the castle walls. Across the Heras River to the north, the dark fir-and spruce-filled forests of Eld remained empty of all signs of an approaching army.
“Are you so sure they are coming?” Dorian asked Rain, as the two kings toured the ramparts. “You claimed the attack would come last night, yet it did not.”
“Hawksheart said the attack would come last night,” Rain corrected. “I don’t know why he misread what he Saw.”
“What if you’re wrong about where the attack is coming, too? What if Celieria City is the real target? I’ve effectively emptied the city of defenders. I marched half my armies here and sent the other half to King’s Point with my son on your word that an attack was imminent. I left only a few garrisons to protect the city itself. Please, tell me I have not made the most colossal mistake of my lifetime.”
“Celieria City was neither the target specified by the Mage we captured nor the target Hawksheart warned us to protect,” Rain said.
“And yet, here we stand, and there is not an enemy in sight.” The Celierian king folded his arms over his chest. “O
r is there perhaps some other important little tidbit of information you’ve been keeping from me? Some reason you wanted me here that you thought I’d be better off not knowing?”
“Nei, there is not. I have always spoken true. I may not have told you everything, but I’ve never lied to you.”
“Oh, right. You don’t lie. That would be dishonorable. Instead, you just manipulate and deliberately mislead.”
Rain’s muscles drew tight as his temper rose. Dorian had a right to his suspicions, but this was deliberate insult. “Are you going to throw that in my face every time I advise you? The enemy may not have attacked last night, as Hawksheart said they would, but there remains no doubt in my mind that they will. There is no doubt in my mind that we are facing the deadliest battle of our lifetime. Our ability to strike any sort of significant blow against this High Mage’s army will depend on how closely we can work together, how much we can trust each other.”
“Perhaps you should have thought of that before you chose to deceive me.” A hard north wind blew Dorian’s blue cloak back off his shoulders and tugged strands of dark hair from his queue to whip about his face.
“Spit and scorch me!” Cursing under his breath, Rain stalked to the crenellated edge of the battlement. He grabbed the edges of the stone and held on as tightly as he was holding the fraying edges of his temper.
Ellysetta was down in the encampment with her quintet, checking on Rowan and making the rounds of the Fey and Celierian armies—ostensibly to see if any of the warriors needed healing, but really to start mending fences and rebuilding damaged trust. As important as that was, Rain should have known better than to take this walk with Dorian without her. Thanks to his encroaching bond madness, his ability to control his temper proved elusive when he strayed too far from Ellysetta’s side. Even the smallest conflict sparked his tairen’s ire—and considering that a tairen’s idea of diplomacy was to flame-roast his opponent and eat his smoking carcass, that was not particularly helpful.