by C. L. Wilson
Ellie’s shoulders drooped. “Yes, Mama.”
That evening, Ellie donned her green dress and tried not to feel like a lamb being led to slaughter. At her mother’s insistence, she wore Lauriana’s bridal chemise beneath the green gown, and aged ivory lace fell over the backs of her hands, looking beautiful and feminine and delicate. Ellie wished she were wearing her own plain cuffs instead.
She stared hard at her reflection in the mirror. Startling green eyes stared back at her, looking too big in a too wan face, accentuated by prominent cheekbones and a slender nose. In the last year or so, her eyebrows and eyelashes had darkened to a deep auburn. The slashing wings of her brows were now exotic rather than pale and washed out, and once her eyelashes had darkened, their thickness and length had become apparent. She had been grateful for that, though at this moment she could have cheerfully wished them back to the transparent pale orange of her childhood. Her mouth was too wide, she acknowledged critically, her lips too full and too red. Her teeth, however, were white and straight, one of her best features.
She decided not to smile tonight—at least not so she showed any teeth.
She had ruthlessly subdued her wild tangle of hair into a knot on the top of her head, and for once was glad of its bright, unfashionable color and the rather severe style. She stepped back from the mirror. Unfortunately, Mama had been right about the dress making her look nice. The green color was flattering, and the bodice, laced tight to push up her breasts, made her look slender rather than skinny. She was still too tall to be considered feminine by Celierian standards. Flat-footed, she could look Den straight in the eye. Ellie thrust her feet into her highest-heeled shoes and immediately grew three inches.
Satisfied that she’d done exactly as her mother asked, and as much as possible to mitigate any hint of prettiness, Ellie made her way downstairs to the family parlor.
Den was already there, sitting across from her father on one of Sol Baristani’s finely carved settees and chewing a chocolate caramel with relish. His stocky body was clothed in what appeared to be a new dark blue plaid suit, cut just the tiniest bit too tight, with a yellow neckcloth tied in folds about his thick neck. A gold pin, shaped like a rather ungainly bear, glinted from the folds of the neckcloth. His brown hair, greased with a strongly scented pomade, was slicked back from his face, with a puff of curls carefully formed at the top of his broad forehead. His skin was ruddy, his nose partly flattened from a series of childhood scuffles, and his eyes were pale blue rimmed with stubby black lashes.
He was attractive enough, in a rough, butcher’s son sort of way. That wasn’t what bothered Ellie.
He looked up, caught sight of her, and jumped to his feet, crossing the room to stand uncomfortably close to her. His gaze swept over her, then homed in on the swell of bosom thrust up against the delicate fabric of her mother’s best chemise. A bosom that was three inches closer to his face thanks to her decision—poorly considered, she now realized—to wear high heels. His tongue came out to lick his full lips.
That was what bothered Ellie.
Fighting the urge to cross her arms over her chest, she forced a stiff little smile—no teeth—and said, “Good evening, Den. How nice that you could join us tonight.”
“You look very pretty, Ellysetta.” That came from Papa, of course. Den was still salivating over her bosom.
“Thank you, Papa.” She was grateful for the warm love shining from Sol Baristani’s eyes. And for his presence in the parlor. The gods only knew what Den would have tried had they been alone. Judging from the look on his face, she wouldn’t have liked it much.
“Mmm. Yes,” Den agreed, licking his lips again. “Very pretty.” His pale blue gaze traveled up her neck and paused at her mouth. When finally he met her gaze head on, there were spots of color in his cheeks.
For a moment she imagined she felt a disturbing hunger. His hunger, she realized, and it wasn’t for food. Sudden panic roiled inside her, tying her stomach in knots and making her break out in a clammy sweat. If he touched her, she knew she would be sick.
“Ah, Ellysetta. Good.” Mama’s voice snapped through the strange emotions that had captured Ellie, and she dragged in a gasp of air. No wonder she felt ill. She’d held her breath until she was dizzy!
“—to ask you to help me,” Lauriana was saying, “but I’ve changed my mind. You look far too pretty to risk soiling your gown in the kitchen. Don’t you agree, Den?” It was an embarrassing maternal attempt to draw a compliment from Den, but the young man didn’t hesitate to oblige her.
“Indeed, Madam Baristani.” Den bowed at the waist as if he were a lord’s son rather than a butcher’s. “Ellysetta looks lovelier than I have ever seen her.” The smug smile was back.
“Sol, perhaps you would give me a hand instead?” Lauriana suggested with a pointed look.
Ellie’s eyes went wide with panic. “I don’t mind helping you, Mama!” She heard the shrill desperation in her voice. “Really, I don’t.”
“Nonsense. You stay here and entertain your young man. Your father is happy to help me.” As they exited the room, her mother flashed an indulgent smile at Den and said in a coy, entirely un-Mama-like voice, “We won’t be but a few chimes, children.”
There was no mistaking her humiliatingly obvious scheme, and Den was quick to take up the unspoken invitation. As soon as Lauriana’s skirts disappeared down the hall, he stepped closer to Ellie, his square hands reaching for her. She stumbled backwards to escape his pursuit, only to find herself stuck in a corner, trapped between his arms, staring in horrified revulsion as his thick, wet lips tried to attach themselves to hers.
Ellie escaped the kiss with a quick twist of her body, and tried to duck under his arm. She wasn’t quite fast enough, and her slender muscles were no match for his solid bulk. After a brief, undignified tussle, she found herself back in the corner, pulled tight against his body.
“Come on, Ellie.” His breath was starting to come a little faster. “We both know why your parents left us alone. There’s no need to play the coy maiden. I don’t want anything more than a kiss or two.” He grinned, showing two rows of sharp and slightly crooked teeth. “For now.”
“Den, we hardly know each other.”
He laughed. “We’ve known each other since childhood, Ellie.”
“But not like this…we’ve just been…er…friends.” They’d never been friends. He’d been a taunting bully who liked to make her cry.
“I want to be more than friends now.” His hands roved over her waist, and his lips descended, glancing off her cheek as she jerked her head away. Den drew back slightly and chuckled. “I’ve been watching you for some time now, Ellie,” he murmured, his voice thick and possessive. “Granted, you weren’t much to look at as a kid, all orange hair, freckles, and knobby knees. But lately, you’ve started to show a little promise.” That smug, secret smile flashed again, and one thick-fingered hand came up to cup her chin. “I’ve decided to make you my wife, Ellie Baristani.”
He didn’t ask. He just said it, as if she had no choice in the matter. She stared at him, aghast, wondering how in the names of all the gods she was going to get out of this with any measure of grace. “Den, you…er…honor me, but—”
“Shh.” The hand on her chin moved to cover her mouth. “There’s no need to say anything.” Her eyes widened in outrage and sudden fear as the hand on her mouth clamped down harder and Den lowered his head to her neck.
Her stomach lurched as something warm and wet touched her skin. Was that his tongue? A stinging pain at the base of her throat made her yelp against his silencing hand. The little bloat toad had bitten her! He sucked at the spot he’d just bitten, and once more that warm, wet tongue licked her. Oh, gods, she was going to be sick!
Outraged and repulsed, she grabbed two handfuls of his hair and yanked. Hard. She kicked his shins, too. He just grunted and shoved her against the wall, pinning her with the heavy, unmovable weight of his stocky body. Before she could draw breath enough
to scream, his mouth was on hers. His lips were wet and slippery, and that horrid tongue was on the loose again, this time trying to get inside her mouth.
Without warning, one hand closed around her breast. Instinctively, she opened her mouth to scream. It was exactly the wrong reaction, and one he’d obviously been counting on. His hand shot up to hold her jaw open, and his tongue thrust deep into her mouth. Her screams, muffled by his mouth, came out as frantic little squeals that seemed only to excite him further.
Never in her life had Ellie been assaulted this way. Where were her parents? How could they have abandoned her to this…this…mauling?
Beneath the revulsion and feeling of helplessness, a darker emotion burst into smoldering life. A wild, fierce anger. Her skin flashed hot and tingling, drawing tight as if something inside her flesh were struggling to get out.
Terror grabbed her by the throat as the room began to tremble.
Two hundred miles away, beside a campfire burning in the chilly night, Rain Tairen Soul felt a woman’s emotions stab into him. Fear. Outrage. Desperation. He leapt to his feet, his nostrils flaring as if he could scent the emotions on the wind. His mind raced to find their path, to identify their source.
Another wave of feelings arrowed into him. Revulsion. Rage. Then stark terror. A wordless cry screamed in his mind. She was calling out to him. She was afraid, and he was not there to protect her.
He flung himself from the ground into the sky, flashing instantly into tairen-form. Flames scorched the night sky and his roar of fury rent the air as he followed the path of the mind that called out to him in fear.
But then, as suddenly as the call had come, it fell silent. Confused by the abrupt termination of the connection, Rain faltered in mid flight. His fury was still there. Licks of flame still curled from his muzzle and venom pooled in the reservoirs in his fangs, but his rage had lost its focus. The woman’s fear and desperation were gone, no longer fueling his wrath. Banking right, he circled the sky and reached out with his mind, trying to find the one who had called. He found nothing but silence and the worried calls of the Fey warriors he’d left behind. Then the even more worried call of Marissya.
The warriors he might have ignored, but not Marissya. All Fey men were bound to protect the females of their race, even from worry.
«Rain?» Marissya didn’t try to hide the concern in her mental voice. She was a mere century older than Rain, had known him all his life. She was his friend. «What happened?»
«She called out to me. She was afraid.»
«Who?»
He hesitated. «I don’t know.» Keen tairen eyes pierced the night. Far away in the distance, he saw the glow of Celieria. «But I’m going to find out.» He dipped one wing and banked again, heading towards the city in the distance.
Ellie sat at the dinner table and couldn’t stomach the thought of putting food in her mouth. The terrifying anger and the disturbing sensation in her skin had passed almost as quickly as they’d come, with none but Ellie the wiser. Though she could have sworn the parlor had actually trembled, no one else appeared to have sensed it. Was she going mad? Had the demons that had haunted her youth found a different, more subtle way to work their evil on her?
Ellie knew not to let herself get upset. All her life, she’d worked to keep her emotions in check lest she accidentally trigger another seizure. She forced herself to take deep, even breaths, and filled her mind with calming thoughts.
Still, as she glanced at her mother from beneath her lashes, she couldn’t quell a spurt of anger and resentment as Lauriana made pleasant small talk—small talk!—with Den Brodson. How could Mama even contemplate wedding Ellie to that odious rultshart?
Did Mama know what Den had been doing in the parlor? She must have known. She’d made a series of intentionally loud noises before coming back in. What had that been all about except to let Den know he should stop his assault on Ellie? He had, thank the gods. With a final wet kiss and a last painful squeeze of her breast, Den had released her and said, “You’ll do, Ellie.” As if she were a haunch of beef he was approving from the slaughterhouse.
Ellie’s relief at being freed had rapidly turned into a sense of betrayal. How could Mama know what Den had been doing and not be outraged? Surely Mama didn’t know about that awful pink slug of a tongue.
Outrage and resentment clashed inside her. She was not going to marry Den Brodson. Not now. Not ever. Anger flared, quick and hot.
Suddenly there was a feeling in her mind. A probing touch, as if someone or something was trying to reach inside her head. She had a distant sense of scarcely banked fury and a stronger sense of something powerful rushing towards her with grim purpose.
Ellie’s spoon clattered to the table. Everyone looked at her in surprise.
“Ellie?” Papa’s brown eyes radiated concern. “Are you all right, kit?”
She put a shaking hand to her head. “I—I think so, Papa.” The feeling was gone. Had it been her imagination? Another sign of impending madness? She forced a wan smile and tugged at the neck of her chemise. “I mean, yes. I’m fine. Just a little tired.”
“What’s that on your neck?” Lorelle was staring at the spot where Den had bitten Ellie’s neck, the spot that Ellie had unwittingly just revealed.
In an instant, everyone was staring at Ellie’s neck. Embarrassed, she clapped a hand over the spot. She hadn’t looked in a mirror. Had Den left a mark on her?
Apparently so, because her father was now staring hard at Den. That shameless klat just smiled his smug smile and met her papa’s gaze straight on. Mama’s eyes darted from her husband to her daughter’s suitor. There was a look in Mama’s eyes that made Ellie’s heart stutter. Embarrassment faded—even fear of what was happening to her faded—as worry slithered up Ellie’s spine.
“Girls,” Papa said. Ellie had never heard his voice sound so emotionless, so hard. “Go to your rooms.” The twins jumped to their feet and scurried out. “You, too, Ellysetta.” He didn’t look at her, didn’t take his unblinking gaze from Den’s.
Ellie did not immediately obey. Did her parents not know what Den had done to her, after all? Was it possible that they hadn’t left her alone with him in the parlor for that very reason?
“Papa?”
“Go!” he barked, and Ellie all but fell over herself rushing from the room. She raced for the stairs and took them two at a time, not slowing down until she was ensconced in the safety of her small bedroom.
Needing to know exactly what sort of mark Den had left on her, she went to the small dressing table tucked in the corner of her room. Her fingers shook as she struck a match and lit the oil lamp on the table. Soft golden light filled the room. Ellie leaned close to the mirror, tugging the neck of her chemise to one side to reveal a small, dark, oval mark at the base of her throat. In the golden glow of lamplight, the mark looked like a smudge of soot. She rubbed at it, but it didn’t come off. She felt invaded somehow, violated, and suddenly very afraid of what was going on downstairs.
She sat on the edge of her bed, and waited. She didn’t know how long she sat there. It seemed like bells before she heard the creak of the stairs and the slow clomp, clomp of her father’s boots. She rushed to her bedroom door and pulled it open.
“Papa?”
There was disappointment and sadness in his eyes when he looked at her. “Go to bed, Ellysetta. It’s getting late.” He looked tired and worn. Old.
“But, Papa…about Den.” What could she say? She couldn’t very well tell her father about the embarrassing things he’d done to her. “I…I know Mama thinks he’s a good match, but, Papa…I don’t like him. Please, I don’t want to marry him.”
Her father stared at her for a moment, then shook his head and turned away. “Go to bed. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“But, Papa—”
He just continued walking down the hall and into his room, closing his bedroom door behind him.
Ellie returned to her own room and undressed in shadowy darkness, hanging
the green gown and her mother’s chemise in the small wardrobe resting against the wall. She didn’t want to wear either of them again as long as she lived.
After donning a cotton nightdress, she sat down beside the window and unpinned her hair. It spilled down her back in long, springy coils. Brushing it with steady strokes, she stared out at the night sky. Both the large moon called the Mother and the small moon called the Daughter were three-quarters full. It was a bright night.
Please, she prayed silently, fervently, hoping the Celierian gods would hear her. Please send me someone else. Anyone else but Den. She laid the brush in its place on her dressing table and crawled into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin and closing her eyes.
She didn’t see the shadow fall across her room as the light from the Mother was blotted out by a large black tairen winging through the night. She didn’t see the lavender eyes, glowing like beacons, turn their light upon the rooftops of Celieria. Searching. Seeking.
CHAPTER TWO
Beautifully and fearfully wrought, by dread magic splendored,
With passion’s fire his soul does burn, in sorrow his name be whispered.
—from the epic poem Rainier’s Song by Avian of Celieria
Celieria’s main thoroughfare was already lined four deep when Ellie and the twins arrived at seven the next morning. News that the Tairen Soul himself would be coming had raced like wildfire through the city, and Ellie was convinced that before ten bells every man, woman, and child in the city would be lining the streets to ogle the legendary Feyreisen, Rain Tairen Soul, the man-beast who had once almost destroyed the world.
She began searching for a place from which to watch the forthcoming spectacle. About halfway between the city gates and the royal palace, she found a grassy knoll bordering one of the city’s many small parks. From atop the knoll, the children would have an unimpeded view of the Fey procession.
Sending the twins off to play while they waited for the procession to begin, Ellie spread her brown skirts and sat down without a care for grass stains or the morning dew that dampened her dress. Her mind was still chasing itself in circles, worrying over what had passed between Den and her parents last night. She still didn’t know. Papa had been gone when she came downstairs for breakfast, and Mama had told her they would talk after she returned from the Fey procession. Ellie couldn’t shake the feeling that something very bad was about to happen.