by C. L. Wilson
Ellie heard a door bang at the back of the house, then the sound of small feet racing. Lillis burst breathlessly into the room, followed close on her heels by an equally breathless Lorelle. Their hair was disheveled, but it was obvious they were unharmed.
The glow of magic around Ellie winked out. Rain straightened from the tense, slightly crouching position he had assumed. The Fey warriors who had fanned out in the room returned and sheathed their weapons.
“Yes, Mama?” Lillis gasped.
“I thought I told you to keep that cat out of this room. Look at the mess she’s made.”
“I know, Mama. I’m sorry. I gave her to Kieran, and she was behaving so well, but then he starting doing magic and—”
“Magic?” Lauriana echoed sharply.
“A thousand pardons, Madam Baristani.” Kieran entered the room, followed by Kiel. Lillis’s tiny white kitten, an adorable blue-eyed darling named Love, was perched on Kieran’s shoulder. Her stubby pennant of a tail flicked continuously at his ear, and she was purring loud enough for all to hear. She looked far too innocent to have caused such wholesale destruction.
“It is my fault,” Kieran said. “Kiel and I will clean up the mess.”
“Let me assist you,” Bel offered, and a white glow of Air lit his fingertips.
“Nei!” Kiel and Kieran shouted in unison.
At the same instant, sweet, adorable Love sprang into screeching, insane life and launched herself off Kieran’s shoulder, fangs gleaming, claws bared, every little white hair on her body standing straight up. She landed with a thud on top of the pile of pattern books, and the sound of ripping pages filled the air as her claws scrabbled for purchase.
Kieran dove for her, but she eluded him, leaping to the chair draped with fabric. Swatches spat out from beneath her frantically pedaling feet.
“Let go, Bel,” Kiel commanded. “She senses when anyone calls magic within a tairen-length of her, and she hates it.”
Bel released his power and the kitten went skittering across the floor to hide under a tall, carved display cabinet. Blue eyes shone out from the darkness as Love crouched there, hissing and watching them warily.
“She hates Air especially,” Kieran added, climbing to his feet and running a hand through his hair. That was when Ellie noticed there were enough bleeding scratches on the backs of his hands to form a Stones grid. “I would have thought it would be Water, wouldn’t you?” He shook his head and grinned a little. “Perhaps she’s got a bit of tairen in her rather than just plain house cat. Fire, Water, and Earth only get her back up. Air makes her crazy. And if you want to see real feline insanity, try a weave of Spirit.”
“Aiyah,” Kiel agreed with a shudder. “That’s what caused all this.” His hands gestured to the destruction throughout the room.
Ellie bit her lip, trying hard not to laugh as Kieran crossed the room to crouch down beside the cabinet and croon, “Here, kit, kit, kit. Come here, little Love. That bad Fey warrior has put his nasty magic away.” Kieran turned his head just slightly to flash a laughing blue-eyed look at Belliard as the older Fey’s back went stiff.
Within a few chimes, Kieran had successfully coaxed Love out of hiding, and once more she perched on his shoulder, purred, and flicked his ear with her stubby little tail.
“How sweet of you, Lillis, to let Kieran hold your kitten,” Ellie remarked.
“I gave her to him,” Lillis said proudly. “It was the best reward I could think of.”
“Reward?”
“For pushing Kelissande into the river.”
Ellie rounded on Kieran. “You were responsible for that?”
Kieran smiled, shrugged, and scratched a finger beneath Love’s chin.
Ellie shook her head. Centuries old he might be, but there was still plenty of mischief in him. She turned back to her mother. “Mama, do you need any help in the kitchen?”
Lauriana was still staring daggers at the Fey for weaving magic in her house. At Ellie’s question, she gave them one last frowning glare and turned away. “No. Just have the girls clean up this mess. You need to look through those pattern books and make some decisions about what you want. Maestra Binchi said she’ll send a lad round tonight to pick up your selection so they can cut the fabric for your wedding gown tonight and do the first fitting tomorrow morning. The other three dressmakers have asked for the same thing.” Which explained all the pattern books and fabric swatches Love had scattered everywhere. “And Lady Marissya sent a note saying that you and the Feyreisen are expected at the palace for dinner on Kingsday night. She’s already selected a gown for you, and it’s being made, along with everything else you’ll need to wear.” Lauriana disappeared through the kitchen door.
Dinner? At the palace? Three days from now? Ellie stared up at Rain in dismay.
“Peace, shei’tani. We do not have to go.”
“Oh, and one more thing,” Lauriana said, popping back out of the kitchen. “Lady Marissya says you have to go. Something about upholding Fey honor and family ties.”
“Where is Marissya’s note?” Rain asked. Lauriana gestured to a small table by the front door and disappeared back into the kitchen. Rain crossed to the table in four long strides, read Marissya’s note, then crumpled it in his hand, glowering. The note burst into flames.
On Kieran’s shoulder, Love hissed and arched her back. Kieran gave his king a reproachful look, then set about soothing his magic-ruffled pet.
“It appears we do have to go,” Ellie said. She swallowed her trepidation and smiled bravely. “I’ll try not to embarrass you with my poor social graces.”
Rain frowned at her. “You bring pride to this Fey,” he replied. “Never believe otherwise.” He shook his head. “There is an attempt in the Celierian Council to reopen the Eld borders. I have urged Dorian not to do so, but there is opposition in the Council of Lords. He is holding this dinner in our honor in order that he and I might present a united front against those who oppose him. Marissya has sworn a Fey oath guaranteeing that you and I will be there. That makes it impossible for us not to go. But even without Marissya’s oath, if Dorian asks for my help to keep the Eld out of Celieria, then I must give it.”
“According to the papers, the Elden ambassador just wants to open trade between our countries again,” Ellie said. “That doesn’t seem like such a bad thing.”
“It is never ‘just’ trade with the Eld.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I know the Eld. Because I sense the darkness. The serpent is there, waiting in the grass. It has been coiled so quietly for so long, Celierians have forgotten it. Even among the Fey, there are those who have forgotten how quickly the serpent can strike, how insidious and lethal is its venom. They think we can walk the path and not be bitten.”
“But you don’t think so.”
“I am unwilling to take the chance.” His face was grim, his eyes shadowed. “I have seen what Elden Mages can do to a Fey. I hope never to see it again.”
Ellie remembered the torment Rain had shared with her in the museum that first night. She never again wanted to witness—even secondhand—anything remotely like the horrors he had experienced in the Wars.
“Then of course we must go,” she said, forcing down her own curl of dread. She’d met a number of Celierian nobles when assisting her father, and for every one she’d thought was kind, she’d met ten more who weren’t. She had no illusions about the kind of reception she would receive from them. “Perhaps we won’t have to stay long?”
“Longer than I would like,” he grumbled. “Celieria’s noble families are full of dark-souled creatures. I have never been able to abide them.”
“Well, let’s worry about tomorrow when it comes,” she declared, pushing aside her useless fears. “For now, we have a mess to clean up.” She bent to gather up the pattern books and all their torn pages.
The sensation came without warning, like deadly ice spiders crawling up her spine. Every hair on Ellie’s body stood on end.
The pattern books spilled from her hands to the floor. She jerked up and instinctively grabbed hold of Rain’s arm, leaning into his strength and shivering.
“Shei’tani?” His concern was instant. “What is it?”
“I—” As suddenly as the feeling had come, it was gone. She exhaled. “Nothing.”
“Ellysetta.” His hands cupped her face, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Do not keep things from me. I am your mate. You must trust me. I can sense your fear, but not what caused it. Tell me what it was you felt.” He was frowning, his black brows drawn together, his eyes intent and demanding.
“It’s nothing. Just a ghost treading on my grave.”
“A ghost? A wandering soul?”
She laughed a little. “I didn’t mean that literally. It’s just an old Celierian saying for when something makes you frightened for no reason.”
“Old sayings are usually grounded in old truths,” Rain told her, still frowning. “Have you had such feelings before?”
“On and off, ever since I was a child.” She gave him a lopsided smile. “It’s one of the many little oddities about me that make me undesirable as a Celierian bride. The feelings never seem to mean anything in particular. They just scare me a little.” But not nearly as much as those waking nightmares that left her sobbing in agony and terror just before a seizure. She forced a reassuring smile to her face. “I’m fine. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Opening his Fey senses, Rain stretched the limits of his awareness, his mind filling with thousands of thoughts, mundane, mortal, many dark but none an obvious threat to the young woman by his side. In addition, he probed for the telltale reddish-black glow of Azrahn. He found nothing.
He glanced at Love, but the kitten was still purring on Kieran’s shoulder. Whatever the wandering soul was, it did not trigger fear in Love the way magic apparently did.
Because he could sense no danger, he nodded. “Very well, then. It must indeed have been nothing.” But his instincts urged caution. He met Bel’s eyes. He didn’t need to say a word. Bel simply nodded. The Fey would be on their guard.
High Mage Vadim Maur dipped his quill in the inkpot beside him and recorded the details of his latest experiment on a piece of blank parchment. The waterclock on the wall of his office softly chimed the first silver bells of the evening. Even without the clock, he knew the sun had set over Eld. The tingle of magic in his flesh had strengthened, as it did every night when light retreated from the world. Azreisenahn, the dark magic of the Mages more commonly known as Azrahn, thrived in the night. The darker the sky, the greater his magic, and the more powerful the spells he could cast.
Next to the waterclock, a mechanical moonclock ticked slowly. The golden orb representing the Great Sun had disappeared, and the small globes representing the two moons had risen. Painted half white and half black, the globes had rotated on their slender brass rods to show the current moonphase. Unfortunately, both the Mother and Daughter had just waxed full, and his magic was at its lowest ebb of the year. Discovery of the girl—if she was indeed the one he’d been searching for so long—couldn’t have come at a worse time.
A knock sounded on his office door. “Enter,” Vadim called. He looked up from his desk as his apprentice, the young but very powerful Mage Kolis Manza, entered. The younger man’s red robes swirled around him as he walked. About his waist, Kolis wore a scarlet sash embroidered with golden threads and decorated with numerous dark, shining jewels, each a commemoration of a great achievement. Kolis was a Sulimage, the Eld equivalent of a journeyman, and he was famous among the novitiates, apprentices, and his fellow Sulimages for his magical prowess. His current service in Celieria, coveted by even the most experienced, fully ranked Primages, was one of the many important tasks that Vadim had set before him over the years to complete his training.
“Well?” Vadim prompted.
Kolis bowed deep, his vivid blue-green eyes suitably unfathomable, though Vadim thought he detected a hint of excitement. “I’m almost certain it is she, Master,” he replied, “the one that was lost. She was found abandoned twenty-three years ago in the forests of Norban. The Celierian who tried to wed her said there are rumors she is demon-cursed, and he claims to have seen her work magic. Healing, finding lost things, perhaps more.”
Anger curled in Vadim’s belly, and just as quickly was snuffed out. If his pets had deceived him, they would suffer for it…but first he must ascertain the depths of their deceit. After a thousand years of captivity and experimentation, they were fragile, close to succumbing to the catatonic death sleep that had claimed all but a few of their fellow captives. He would not risk destroying them without cause.
“If her magic was substantial, I would have detected it before now. She must be powerful to be of use to me.” His fingers drummed on the polished wood of his desktop.
“Does it matter, Master? She is the Tairen Soul’s truemate. Isn’t that enough? Through her you can destroy him.”
“No, Kolis. We’ve seen what this Tairen Soul will do when deprived of a mate. I’m not as big a fool as my predecessor was. We’ve made too much progress to risk that sort of destruction again without an extraordinary reason. She must have exceptional power, and I must have proof of it.” His fingers stilled. His eyes flashed up. “Take your rest for a few bells. Rejuvenate yourself, then return to Celieria,” he instructed. “Test her magic. A master’s strength in any of the six branches would be enough for me to risk the Tairen Soul’s wrath. And bring me back her blood. She hides too well. I need her blood to strengthen the seeking spell.”
“But, Master, she is guarded round the clock.”
“I trust your judgment, Kolis. You will find a way. Use that Eld girl you told me about and your other umagi.” He held Kolis’s gaze steadily.
“I will not fail you, Master.” Kolis bowed again, deeply as befitting an apprentice to his master, as befitting any man before the greatest Mage of Eld.
Ellie was dreaming she was back in the park. Only this time, the girl who was pushed in to the river wasn’t Kelissande, it was Ellysetta.
Mocking laughter rang out. A crowd had gathered at the river’s edge, all the tradesmen she’d met today, the king and the queen, the courtiers, even the Fey. They were laughing and pointing at Ellie as she dragged herself out of the river. Maestra Binchi howled and said, “What did I tell you? Sowlet ears.” The Archbishop stood beside Ellie’s mother, and both of them pointed at her, shouting, “Demon-cursed!”
“Did you really think he would ever choose you?” Sariel stood with Rain at her side, one hand clutching his arm possessively. “He’s mine, and he always will be.” Sariel’s midnight hair lightened, turning golden blond. Her face changed, too, and then it was Kelissande who stood at Rain’s side, sneering, “Ellie Lack Grace.”
Ellie stared at the hand on Rain’s arm, and a terrible fury bloomed in her heart. She struck out wildly, raking her fingers across Kelissande’s face, but her hands had become talons. Kelissande’s perfect skin shredded. Blood soaked Ellie’s clawed, hideous hands. She screamed and screamed. Fey leapt towards her, blades bared and deadly. Power flamed in Rain’s eyes and shot from his fingertips as he cried, “Demon cursed! Servant of the Dark Lord!”
A cold, howling wind swept over her, a maelstrom of darkness that ripped her away and left her alone and shivering in a cold, dead world of shadows. Her own weeping was the only sound in the emptiness. And when that died away, she heard the familiar hissing, malevolent whisper. “Girl…you cannot hide forever. Your true nature will reveal itself eventually.”
Rain stood on the palace rooftop, breathing in the still-warm night air and absorbing the scents and sounds of the city. Eyes closed, senses flowing out on every path, he searched as he had all evening for traces of the “wandering soul” that had attacked Ellysetta. He found darkness and evil, but nothing more sinister than that which existed in every mortal city.
Horse hooves and steel-rimmed carriage wheels clattered on the cobbles below. He released his wea
ves and glanced down to watch a noble family alight. Throughout the day, the nobles from the outlying estates had been arriving for Prince Dorian’s betrothal celebrations and the biannual convening of the Council of Lords. By this time tomorrow every room in the palace would be full, every grand residence in the city buzzing with activity, and soon the heads of those noble houses would decide the fate of their country.
Too many, he feared, had forgotten the harsh lessons of the past and the sacrifices of their ancestors. Mortals always did. Rain had not. He remembered Dorian I and Marikah vol Serranis Torreval and the abrupt, shocking brutality of their deaths. He remembered Dorian II and his courage as he led his country through bitter, bloody years of war. He remembered the staggering price that Fey, Celierians, Elves, and Danae alike had paid to live free of Eld corruptions and the domination of the Mages.
Just the thought of Celieria’s lords contemplating friendship with their northern neighbor made the tairen scream in fury and Rain’s hands itch to bare lethal Fey steel. Free men could never hope to live in peace with the Eld as long as a single Mage held power. Every fool who had ever tried doomed himself and his children to be soul-bound by the Mages and enslaved in the service of Seledorn, God of Shadows. Why was it so impossible for mortals to remember that? Had they become so soft, so certain that peace and freedom were gods-given rights rather than hard-won gifts, that they could no longer recognize evil when it stood on their doorstep?
“Mortal lives are short,” Marissya had reminded him earlier. “The ones who remember as we do are dead and gone centuries ago.”
“And these newer generations cannot read?” he’d countered bitterly. “The suffering of our friends and our people during the Mage Wars was well documented—specifically so such evil would never be forgotten. And yet it has been.”
“You must have patience, Rain,” she’d counseled. “Except for my one visit each year, men have lived with little in the way of immortal guidance for centuries. The Elves have kept to their mountains and forests, the Danae to their marshes and groves, and we have sequestered ourselves behind the Faering Mists. You cannot expect the mortals to accept everything we say without question. They never did even when we lived among them.”