by C. L. Wilson
She bit her lip, feeling miserable. She could feel his pain and the sharp edge of temper he was struggling not to release. “I’m sorry.”
“Do not be. I assure you, I will endure. Just be patient with my lapses, and know that I would never harm you.” He closed his eyes again and leaned his head back. “And Ellysetta?”
“Yes?”
“Do not touch me that way again tonight. Please.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The palace was lit like a garden lantern, blazing against the Celierian night sky. The carriage slowly made its way up the crowded carriage path towards the massive palace steps and the waiting footmen, dazzling in their blue-and-gold livery and silvery-white powdered hair.
Ellie stared out the window, up the wide expanse of stairs to the brightly lit interior of the palace beckoning from the opened doors at the top of the stairs. How many young Celierian girls had dreamed of a moment like this? She had dreamed it countless times, and yet now that the dream had become reality, she couldn’t stop wishing she were safe back at home, spending another dull night wrapped in the security of the familiar. Even while another part of her was eager to climb those stairs and taste the wonders of the dream.
“What are you thinking?” Rain was watching her with an intent expression.
“That I’m an awful lot like Ashleanne the hearth-minder,” she replied with a self-deprecating smile. “And you’re the Fey giftfather and the handsome prince all rolled into one.”
“Then perhaps that is to your advantage. The weave doesn’t have to unravel at midnight if you don’t wish it.”
“I’m not so sure I don’t want it to unravel right now. I’m feeling cowardly.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “You are not the first to dread a royal dinner. Even without my dislike of the nobles and the memories of what happened here before, I admit I have never enjoyed these affairs. Especially in Celieria. Your people use far too many forks.”
She laughed, grateful to him for trying to put her at ease even when he himself was not.
The carriage pulled to a stop before the blue-carpeted stairs. Protective shields sprang up around them as they descended from the carriage and remained in place as they climbed the palace steps, not disappearing until they passed through the palace doors.
A servant appeared before them. His livery, the same rich Celierian blue as all the other servants wore, was much more elaborately decorated with gold braid. His hair was gold-powdered and tied at his nape with a Celierian blue bow. He bowed deeply to Rain. “Your Majesty.” He hesitated briefly, then bowed again just as deeply to Ellie. “My Lady. If you will both follow me, please? I will escort you to the ballroom, where the guests are gathering before dinner.”
The corridors were brilliant with light and peopled with servants and courtiers dressed in dazzling displays of gilded cloth, sparkling jewels, and piles of glittering powdered hair. The extreme radiance of wealth was stunning to a girl so used to sensible moderation, and Ellie found herself holding her breath and trying desperately not to look like a goggle-eyed fool while still attempting to drink in every sight, every sound.
When they entered the upper level of the already crowded ballroom and stood at the top of the curving staircase awaiting their introduction, Ellie became instantly and self-consciously aware of how her deep purple and Rain’s black leathers stood out like dark beacons in a sea of gilded pastels. As they stepped onto the landing, every eye in the room below focused on them.
She shrank back against Rain.
«Peace, Ellysetta. There is nothing to fear.»
She tried to stiffen her spine, tried even harder not to let her fear show on her face. Her free hand fell to the Fey’cha at her waist, fingers closing around the black handle with desperate need, but Bel’s dagger did not offer her the comfort it usually did. Perhaps because she knew that if she made a fool of herself tonight, it would reflect badly on Rain and the Fey.
The servant who had led them to the ballroom whispered their names to another servant, this one dressed in pure silver. The silver-clad man announced in ringing tones, “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.”
Ellie had an hysterical urge to laugh at the titles attached to her name. Oh, gods, this was all a mistake. Who did Rain think he was fooling? She was plain Ellie Baristani, woodcarver’s daughter, not a queen. And judging by the haughty, sneering looks on the faces of the nobles below, every one of them was thinking the same thing. How could Rain hope to win their respect and convince them to stand firm against the Eld when he confronted them with a peasant on his arm? Even the servants of the aristocracy looked down their noses at her when they visited her father’s shop at their masters’ bidding.
Bel and Kieran preceded them down the stairs. Kiel, Adrial, and Rowan followed them. Ellie’s knees trembled as she and Rain descended the stairs into the ballroom. She was aware of King Dorian and Queen Annoura sitting in gold and silver radiance on their thrones at the far end of the room, watching her with unblinking eyes. She looked out over the sea of faces and sensed the courtiers’ swelling outrage and stiffening pride. They resented having a peasant’s daughter shoved down their noble, aristocratic throats. She was beneath them. She didn’t belong here. She sensed anger, rapidly escalating, and thought it came from the nobles.
When they reached the bottom stair, Bel turned his head to give her a warning look. «Peace, Ellysetta. Your emotions wake the tairen.»
Her gaze flew to Rain’s unsmiling, stone-carved face. His eyes were on fire with power. His mouth was grim. The anger she felt was his, and he was struggling hard to contain it.
“Rain,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
«Apologize for nothing. Not to me, and especially not to these dark-souled mortals. You are the Feyreisa.»
She winced at the harsh bite in his Spirit voice.
“My Lord Feyreisen.” A glittering man in a blue-and-silver coat dripping lace and jewels stepped forth from the throng. His hair was silver-powdered, his blue eyes cool above a pleasant smile. Though Ellie had never met the man, his face was famous throughout Celieria. Lord Corrias, Celieria’s prime minister, bowed very deeply to Rain.
“Mistress Baristani.” Lord Corrias bowed to her as well, more deeply than a woodcarver’s daughter had a right to expect, but less than a quarter the depth of the bow he had given the Tairen Soul. Not that it mattered to Ellie. She was too busy struggling with the nervous fear that clogged her throat to care about the implications of a bow.
It mattered to Rain.
“She is the Feyreisa.” Rain’s voice was an iced shard of sound, the barest whisper, and yet it sliced across the rising murmurs of the onlooking crowd with chilling ease. “You insult her at your gravest peril.”
The prime minister blanched and immediately fell into a bow even deeper than the one he had offered Rain. “My Lady Feyreisa, please accept my apologies. No insult was intended.”
“Peace, Lord Corrias. No insult is taken.” Marissya v’En Solande’s calm voice broke the tense silence. Deeply veiled and exquisitely gowned in unrelieved scarlet, the shei’dalin descended the stairs on the arm of her truemate. Tairen’s Eye crystals flashed at her throat and wrists, and dozens more hung about her hips on golden chains. “Lady Ellysetta is the first Feyreisa in over two thousand years, and the only one ever to be truemated to our King. One small lapse in protocol can be forgiven.”
As Lord Corrias rose, Marissya’s voice sounded in Ellie’s head. «Las, little sister. Rain will not be able to keep his promise if you cannot control your fears.» Then, hesitantly, «I can help calm you, if you will permit me.»
Ellie shook her head. She wanted no shei’dalin mind control worked on her, even if it was to make her feel better. The very thought of it made her stomach clench.
«Don’t be frightened. I will do nothin
g without your permission. You must calm yourself so Rain can control his temper.»
Ellie took a deep breath and tried to do as Marissya asked, but she was too conscious of the many eyes on her. Whenever Ellie drew too much attention, she could almost feel people looking at her, as if their sharp gazes were fingers pinching and poking at her. It was an unpleasant, unsettling sensation, and trying to combat it always gave her a sick headache. Tonight, the sensation was stronger than ever before.
«Peace, shei’tani.»
“I’m trying,” she muttered. “Can we just get this over with?”
«Of course.» Even though Rain’s eyes still glowed fiercely, his mental voice was warm and gentle and almost as soothing as the shei’dalin’s.
“Lord Corrias.” None of the warmth Ellie felt from Rain was apparent in his voice as he turned his attention back to the prime minister. “Please escort us to the king and queen so that we may pay our respects. Then you may introduce us to your other guests.”
The prime minister gave another deep bow. “Of course, My Lord Feyreisen,” he replied, with only the faintest hint of stiffness in his voice. “It will be my honor.”
When they reached the dais at the end of the room, Rain bowed his head in greeting to King Dorian and Queen Annoura. He saw Ellie begin to sink into a deep curtsey and formed a rapid weave of Air to keep her upright.
«Nei, Ellysetta,» he advised. «You are our queen. Do not humble yourself before the throne of another. It is acceptable merely to bow your head to them to acknowledge their sovereignty in their own land.»
Blushing, she did as he instructed.
Garbed completely in gold, with huge yellow diamonds draped around his throat, sparkling on his fingers, and winking from every fold of his gold-cloth doublet, King Dorian was the sun. His dark hair had been pomaded, curled, and powdered with gold dust. A bright Celierian blue sash was angled across his chest and fastened at his hip by a large gold disk stamped with Celieria’s royal seal. His feet, clad in gold shoes with stacked heels and yellow-diamond-encrusted buckles, were crossed comfortably before him, and his strong, sun-bronzed hands curled with familiar casualness on the arms of his massive throne.
Beside him, shining in cool silver and diamond-white radiance, Queen Annoura was the moon, though in truth she outsparkled her husband. Her hair was powdered silver, her eyebrows gilded to match. Brilliant blue-white diamonds set in shining platinum cascaded like a waterfall down her slender throat and across the deep expanse of skin exposed by the low heart-shaped décolletage of her gown. One large egg-shaped diamond trembled between her breasts. More diamonds winked at her ears, on her fingers, around her wrists, from the silver fabric and lace of her gown. Even the tips of her silver-polished nails gleamed with small diamonds.
The overdone brilliance of the king and queen offended Rain’s Fey senses. In the Fading Lands, elegance and beauty were found in simplicity rather than ostentation. Ellysetta’s unadorned gown and the restrained dazzle of her Tairen’s Eye jewelry were far more appealing to him.
The queen’s sharp gaze roved over Ellysetta. Her lips tightened as she examined the bracelets and tiara, and Rain knew Bel and the others had been right in offering their sorreisu kiyr. Annoura had no doubt hoped the Fey would forget the Celierians’ custom of declaring social rank by the quantity and value of the jewels they wore. Instead, each one of Ellysetta’s crystals surpassed the combined worth of all Annoura and Dorian’s diamonds.
Finished with her perusal, Annoura arched a mocking silvered brow that set Rain’s teeth on edge. His expression, however, remained stone blank. He would rather dance naked before the entire court than give Celieria’s queen the satisfaction of knowing she could annoy him.
“My dear,” the queen purred to Ellysetta, “you must meet the ladies of our Great Houses. Jiarine, Lady Montevero, will introduce you.”
Annoura waved and a sapphire-bedecked young woman came eagerly to the queen’s side. Her large, silver-lidded eyes swept over Ellysetta, and a too-sweet smile curved her pretty lips. Rain didn’t like the look in her eyes or the hint of darkness that clung to her neatly packaged form. She reminded him too much of the Kelissande creature who took such pleasure in wounding his shei’tani’s heart.
“That is unnecessary,” Rain interrupted, flashing a cold look at Lady Jiarine. “Lord Corrias has graciously offered to introduce us.”
The silver lace fan in Annoura’s hand snapped open and pumped drafts of air onto the queen’s flushed cheeks. “How kind of him.”
Now Rain permitted the barest hint of a smile to reach his eyes. “Indeed.”
«Must you go out of your way to annoy her?» Marissya asked in an aggrieved tone.
«Only when she begs to be annoyed.» The queen might enjoy playing her game of Trumps, but her attempt to use Ellysetta as a pawn would stop tonight. If Annoura persisted, she would soon discover that a Celierian queen was no match for a Fey Tairen Soul.
“Corrias is going to introduce you?” Dorian gave a hearty smile, either ignoring or oblivious to his wife’s stifled pout. “You couldn’t ask for a better man to steer you through this court’s shark-infested waters.”
“Then we shall be well served.” Rain gave a shallow bow.
As Rain turned to leave, the king’s voice stopped him. “Be sure he introduces you to Lords Morvel and Barrial. Both have indicated their interest in pursuing closer ties to the Fey. I understand the Feyreisa’s sisters will soon be of marriageable age.” Ellie gasped in surprise, as did the courtiers close enough to hear the king’s comment. A rapid murmuring rose up around them. “A happy way to strengthen the bond between our two countries, wouldn’t you say?”
«Border lords,» Dax supplied before Rain even asked the question. «Barrial was the one who stood up with Teleos yesterday. He holds the land along the Elden border from Carthage to Kreppes. Morvel controls everything from the Estemere seaport to Norwal.»
Dorian was offering nearly a sixth of the Elden border.
Rain eyed Dorian with new appreciation. The king had been very busy—and much more effective in dealing with his nobles than Rain had been. “Indeed. Such consideration is a great honor to the Baristani family and the Fey.”
“Excellent. My queen and I hope you and your Feyreisa will honor us with your presence at Prince Dorian and Lady Nadela’s betrothal ball.” The ball would initiate a week of city-wide celebrations leading up to the betrothal ceremony itself.
“We will be there, and we thank you for the honor of the invitation.” Rain bowed.
“Your attendance will bring us joy.” Dorian smiled and laid his hand over his wife’s. Her face was a frozen mask.
«Lillis and little Fey’cha are but children.» Stalking at Rain’s right hand side as he and Ellysetta walked away from the throne, Kieran did not even attempt to disguise his displeasure. »Fey do not sell children, not even to protect Eld border land.»
“I don’t like the idea of betrothing Lillis and Lorelle to anyone,” Ellie whispered at the same time. “They should have a chance to grow up and find someone they can love.”
Rain wove a quick net of Air and Spirit about their small group to ensure privacy before he responded. “It is the offer of alliance that is important, not the manner of bonding.”
“Then why would the king mention marriage?” Ellie asked, frowning at Rain.
“He was telling us Lords Morvel and Barrial are willing to garrison Fey warriors in their holdings,” Dax said. “Ellysetta, they know the Fey would not leave your family members anywhere in Celieria without a substantial number of warriors to protect them.”
Rain wondered how the king had achieved such a coup. As he’d spent the past few days discovering, reason alone didn’t seem much of an inducement to the nobles.
“And,” Marissya added, “by publicly inviting you to the Prince’s ball and mentioning the possibility of a betrothal between your sisters and two of the Great Houses, the king has also made it clear that you and your family are to be acc
epted by the other nobles.”
“That’s all well and good, but I don’t want Mama or Papa thinking high-ranking political marriages are in the girls’ best interest. Lillis and Lorelle aren’t chattel to be bartered and sold.”
“Las, shei’tani.” Rain said. “I will speak to Morvel and Barrial and make it clear that no formal offers of marriage are to be extended to your parents.” He dispelled the privacy weaves and turned to the prime minister. “You may begin the introductions, Lord Corrias.”
During the next two bells of introductions and polite mingling, Lord Corrias introduced Ellie and Rain to what seemed like hundreds of Celierian nobles and whispered a steady stream of information into Rain’s ear as they went, identifying each individual’s estate holdings, and what each one stood to gain or lose if the Eld borders were opened for trade. Ellie’s head was swimming with the bombardment of information, but Rain seemed to take it in and process it with enviable efficiency.
She stood at Rain’s side, trying her best to be “grave and gracious.” It was a good thing Master Fellows had told her not to smile, as that would have proven difficult. The Tairen’s Eye crown and bracelets, while physically light, discomfitted her. A low, constant hum of power radiated from the crystals, resonating in her skin and setting her nerves on edge.
Despite the king’s announcement, many of the approaching nobles made a point of eyeing the sparkling crystals before forcing themselves to bow before the woodcarver’s daughter. Some pretended to be more welcoming. They smiled with too-bright smiles, complimented her hair and dress, and murmured concern about yesterday’s attack, but she knew their hard, glittering eyes were sizing her up and searching for any little fault in her appearance or behavior that would put Rain to shame. She refused to give it to them. Holding her head high, she greeted each with solemn reserve. Rain, to his credit, kept his temper in check—and was even on occasion rather charming. The nobles who’d come hoping to gawk at a wild tairen and his peasant bride found themselves meeting a Fey king and his reserved queen instead.