by C. L. Wilson
He placed the scroll back into his desk drawer and closed it away. “Tenn v’En Eilan is a stranger to me. I know nothing of him. But I have spent time with you, and with your Celierian-born truemate. Given the long history between our two countries, and my aunt’s personal regard and affection for you, I thought it best to withhold judgment until I heard the truth from your own lips.”
Rain’s expression seemed carved from diamondine granite. “I wish I could tell you that what is written there is false, but Fey do not lie. Not even Tenn.” He reached for Ellysetta’s hand. “Ellysetta and I did both spin Azrahn. Tenn and three other members of the Massan declared us dahl’reisen and banished us from the Fading Lands because of it.”
Ellysetta sensed Dorian’s instinctive recoil and hurried to reassure him. “What we did wasn’t as evil as Tenn’s message makes it seem. I wove Azrahn to save four tairen kitlings from death, and Rain spun it to save me. The High Mage of Eld was stealing the souls of unborn tairen, and we had to stop him.” Quickly, she told him about how the High Mage had been working to breed his own Tairen Soul.
“If Rain and I had not acted, the tairen would have perished with this generation. Tenn knows that, but it doesn’t matter to him that we saved the tairen, or that Rain led Lord Teleos’s forces to defeat the Eld at Orest, or even that the tairen brought Rain the golden war steel of the Fey king and declared him the rightful ruler of the Fading Lands. All Tenn sees are my Mage Marks, the vision in the Eye of Truth, and the admission that Rain and I wove Azrahn.”
“Which facts, you must admit, are troubling,” Dorian replied.
Rain took a half step forward, only to freeze when Ellysetta caught his wrist. “We do not deny it. The path the gods have laid out before us is by no means an easy one.” Her eyes flashed as she lifted her chin and fixed an unwavering gaze upon the king. “But make no mistake, King Dorian: Azrahn or not, banished or not, Rain is the true king of the Fading Lands and Defender of the Fey. The tairen follow him, as do all Fey who remember that they were born to champion the Light.”
Dorian regarded her in silent contemplation for several long moments. “You have changed a great deal from that shy young woman I first met three months ago.”
“For the better, I hope.”
“That remains to be seen.”
“Enough.” Rain crossed his arms. “We’re wasting time. We came with important news, Dorian, and delayed an even more important visit of our own to do so. But given the unrest in your court and your concerns about your mate, it seems prudent that we share what we know only with those free of Mage Marks. Starting with you.”
“What?” Dorian regarded him with fresh affront. “You’re saying you want to weave the forbidden magic on me now?”
“Aiyah,” Rain confirmed. “On you and everyone else who will be privy to the information we bring. We cannot risk revealing what we know to anyone who might be Mage-claimed, lest word get back to the Eld. That is why we came in person to deliver our news.”
“I am not Mage-claimed, I can assure you.”
“No disrespect, but your assurances aren’t enough. You could bear Marks and not know it, just as Ellysetta did. Gaelen’s Azrahn weave is the only way to be sure.”
«Rain, please.» Ellysetta laid a hand on his arm. His brusqueness was only making Dorian dig in his heels. Kings didn’t take commands from others well. Aloud, to Dorian, she said, “Your Majesty, my best friend’s mother sent her daughter and bond son to their deaths because the Mages owned her soul. Teska, please, the weave won’t harm you, but not knowing could kill us all. I’ll even have Gaelen spin the weave on me, so you can see for yourself.” She turned to motion the former dahl’reisen to her side.
“With your permission, kem’jita’taikonos?” Gaelen said with a bow to his twin sister Marikah’s royal descendant.
“Either you trust us or you don’t,” Rain snapped when Dorian didn’t respond. “Make up your mind.”
The king closed his eyes and splayed one hand across his forehead in a gesture of weary despair. A moment later, he muttered, “Gods save us all,” then opened his eyes and nodded. “Fine. Do it. If you’ve fallen to Darkness, the rest of us are as good as dead anyway.”
Rain gestured and the quintet leapt into action, spinning a ten-fold weave around the room to keep the distinctive magical signature of Azrahn from escaping the room. No need to either alarm Adrial and Rowan, who were still hiding in the city, or tip their hand to any Mages who might be nearby.
“Mage Marks are invisible and undetectable except in the presence of Azrahn,” Gaelen explained. “Then they appear as a pattern of shadows over the heart of the Marked person.” He lifted a hand and summoned a small, spiraling swirl of the forbidden magic into his cupped palm.
Ellysetta shivered as Gaelen’s eyes went black and the icy, too-sweet taste of Azrahn filled her mouth. The skin over her heart began to throb. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and tugged at the neckline of her gown to reveal the four Marks lying like a ring of bruises on the shining white skin of her left breast.
“Sweet Lord of Light,” Dorian breathed.
Gaelen’s weave winked out.
“How badly are you compromised?”
“It is manageable for now,” she assured him, “but just to be safe, I will not be joining you when you discuss matters of military importance.”
“King Dorian,” Rain said, “you have seen what the weave entails. Will you allow us to check you for Mage Marks?”
“Yes, of course,” the king agreed. His hands went to his neatly tied neckcloth. He bared his chest to Gaelen’s weave, and was soon discovered free of Marks.
“Your Majesty,” Ellysetta said, “I will take my leave of you now. Though we will not be here long, may I trouble you for the use of a suite during our stay?”
“Of course.” Dorian tugged on a bellpull by his desk, and a moment later the office door opened to reveal his Steward of Affairs. “Davris, please show the Feyreisa to the blue suite.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” The steward executed a deep court bow. “My Lady Feyreisa, if you would please follow me?”
Leaving Gaelen to continue checking Celierian nobles for Mage Marks, Ellysetta quit the room. The rest of her quintet and the Fire master selected to take Gaelen’s place went with her.
As the door closed behind her, she heard Rain say, “Call your Great Lords, King Dorian…starting with whomever you trust most from holdings here, and here, and here.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Surrounded by her quintet and two dozen lu’tan, Ellysetta followed the king’s steward from one opulent, gilded corridor to another until they reached the palace wing reserved for visiting dignitaries. The carved double doors opened to a richly appointed three-room suite decorated in Celierian blue, creamy white, and lustrous gold.
The quintet made short work of inspecting the suite and weaving privacy and protection upon all three rooms before rejoining Ellysetta in the main salon.
“You should rest,” Bel told Ellysetta. “This business with King Dorian will probably take most of the day.”
She gave him a wan smile. “I’ll sleep later, when we leave Celieria City.” She was tired. Even with Gaelen’s addition to the protection weaves, she’d been too afraid to sleep deeply for fear of dreaming some new horror, but she wasn’t about to sleep here. An unsettling undercurrent in the palace set her nerves on edge.
Ellysetta leaned back against a pile of plump pillows, closed her eyes, and tried to relax, but her rest was soon interrupted by an unexpected visitor.
The suite doors opened to admit a familiar, dapper little man, and Ellysetta leaped up, lips curved in a smile of sincere happiness.
“Master Fellows! What a plea sure to see you again.”
Queen Annoura’s Master of Graces, who had tutored Ellysetta in the courtly arts, was dressed to perfection in exquisitely tailored sapphire silk with an elegant rose brocade waistcoat. A mint-green-lined satin demicape was draped across his sho
ulders. He executed a graceful, flourishing court bow before her—which was quite a feat, considering the snow-white kitten perched on one shoulder.
“My Lady Feyreisa.” Master Fellows straightened and pressed his steepled fingers to his lips in a prayerful gesture. “Dear lady, I can scarce believe my eyes. You have exceeded my greatest expectations. Ah.” He sniffed and his thick, curling lashes fluttered as if he were fighting back tears of joy. “To think this vision of queenly grace and beauty is the same young woman I tutored three months past.”
Standing in the far corner of the room, Bel rolled his eyes, but she laughed in delight. Master Fellows had a warm Light. Fussy and critical and pretentious he might be, but he was also intrinsically honest and well-intentioned and bright of heart.
“With joy, this Fey greets her friend and teacher.” She held out her hands and clasped his. The instant their skin touched, she opened her senses. A wave of warm greeting showered over him to mask the probing weave that scoured him for the slightest hint of Darkness. Relieved to find none, she said, “You are looking well. And little Love has never looked finer.” She smiled at the blue-eyed kitten that had once belonged to Lillis and Lorelle. “She’s gotten so big.” Much larger than the little white fluff ball who had adored perching on Kieran’s shoulder and flicking his ear with her stubby little tail. But larger or not, Love clearly still believed a shoulder was the perfect perch for her.
Master Fellows smiled with indulgent affection and scratched the kitten under her chin. “She is a fine lady of the court now, very fond of her satin and jewels.” A large blue satin bow set with a diamond heart was tied around Love’s throat. “And she has become quite the arbiter of fashion. No less than a dozen young ladies and Sers have begun wearing kittens of their own on their shoulders.”
Ellysetta laughed. “Really? None so beautiful as Love, though, I am sure.” She stepped back and gestured to the upholstered settee. “Teska, Master Fellows, have a seat. Shall I ring for refreshments?”
As she spoke, an exquisite china keflee service appeared on the low table beside the settee. Love screeched in surprise and arched her back, hissing it the tea service. “Or would you prefer to simply enjoy the ones we now have?” Ellysetta muttered with a chiding glance at Tajik and Rijonn. The warriors clearly had no use for bellpulls. They had simply spun weaves of Earth and Fire to prepare hot keflee and a tray of sandwiches and sweetmeats from the palace stores.
“How have you been, Master Fellows?” she asked as she poured a stream of fragrant, steaming brown keflee into an eggshell-thin porcelain cup.
“Very well, Lady Ellysetta. The very pink of health.”
“Really? And the rest of the court?” She poured honeyed cream into the cup, stirring twice, gently, before offering it to him. “I couldn’t help but notice a disturbing hostility in the air when we arrived. I thought those troubles had been resolved before the Feyreisen and I departed this summer.”
“Ah…well, I don’t think the troubles were ever resolved, merely silenced by circumstance. But once the shock of the attack and Greatfather Tivrest’s death faded, the usual dissonance returned. Such strong feelings can rarely be held at bay for long.” He blew across his keflee and took a sip.
Ellysetta poured a second cup for herself and added enough honeyed cream to turn the dark, aromatic brew a milky shade of deep amber. She curled her hands around the cup and lifted it to her nose, her lashes dropping in bliss as she breathed in the rich scent.
She’d not had a decent cup of keflee since leaving the Fading Lands. Lord Teleos, whom she held in great regard in most other ways, drank a pallid brew scarcely worthy of the name. The rich drink she held now, however, came direct from Queen Annoura’s palace stores. No matter what other faults she might have, the queen knew her keflee and stocked only the finest.
She raised her cup to her lips and braced herself in anticipation of the rush of exquisite plea sure, the thrill of keflee’s complex flavors tumbling across her tongue. She tilted the cup and drew the first, hot sip into her mouth. Magic flared the same instant, and her eyes opened in surprise as the sharp bitterness of gallberry tea spilled past her lips.
Outraged, she spat the mouthful back out and set the cup in its saucer with a clatter that sent tea sloshing precariously close to the rim. She turned to glare at Rijonn. The enormous Fey Earth master gave her a look of wide-eyed innocence and pointed one long, large finger of blame at the opposite side of the room. «He made me do it.»
She swiveled in her seat and narrowed her eyes on Bel. Noble, honorable, serious Bel—General of the Fey armies and deadly First Blade of the Fading Lands—was fighting so hard to control his laughter his shoulders were quaking.
“Is something wrong with the keflee, Lady Ellysetta?” Master Fellows inquired in concern.
She turned back around in her seat and forced the scowl off her face. “Not at all, Master Fellows. The keflee”—she emphasized the word and sent another darkling glance Bel’s way—“is as exquisite as any I’ve ever tasted, I’m sure.” «Or would be if some ninnywit would actually let me taste it. Honestly, Bel. Gallberry?»
Bel made a strange choking noise and pivoted abruptly on one heel. He strode to the window, pulled back the lacy curtains, and stood there looking out, his face turned away from the room, his shoulders shaking.
Master Fellows frowned in puzzlement over Bel’s behavior. With a wary glance at his own cup, he set the saucer back on the table.
Ellysetta reached for one of the sweetmeats on the tray, needing something—anything—to take the horrid taste of gallberry out of her mouth. As she did, she noticed a soft rumble coming from the kitten perched on Master Fellows’s shoulder. At first, it sounded like a purr, but Ellysetta had spent enough time around the tairen to realize the sound was actually a faint growl. She glanced up and saw that the pupils of Love’s blue eyes had widened and tension had gathered in her small body. Even as she watched, however, the signs of aggression faded, and Love went back to purring and tickling Master Fellows’s neck with the tip of her tail.
Ellysetta sat back. «Tajik, say something to me in Spirit.»
«Like what?»
Love’s ears flicked back and she began growling again. Ellysetta nearly crowed in triumph. «Never mind.» How could she have forgotten Love’s special gift?
Scarcely able to hide her eagerness, Ellysetta leaned forward. “Master Fellows, may I ask you something in confidence?”
The slender man raised his brows. “You may ask me anything. Provided it is something I am at liberty to discuss, I will do my best to answer.”
“Actually, it’s a question about little Love here.”
“Love?” Master Fellows tilted his head to look down at the white kitten on his shoulder. Her slender tail was wrapped as far around his neck as it would go. Her claws dug deep, through the material of his demicape into what was apparently a thick pad fixed on his right shoulder.
“Have you ever noticed her acting strangely since you brought her here to the palace?”
“Strangely?” The Master of Graces regarded Ellysetta with a furrowed brow. “How do you mean?”
“Taking an inexplicable fright, for instance? Hissing regularly at particular people in the palace?” At the corners of the room, Tajik, Rijonn, Gil, and the lu’tan who’d taken Gaelen’s place all emanated a mild sense of curiosity and confusion over her question. Bel, however, suddenly went still and intent. He had been in Celieria this summer and witnessed Love’s unique talent firsthand.
“Well, there are a number of courtiers she’s never taken a particular liking to, though I simply put that down to discriminating taste. Most of them I don’t care for myself.”
“Which courtiers? Can you tell me their names?”
“Oh, dear, you want names?” Master Fellows tapped his lip. “Several of the new Dazzles. Ser Egol, Sera Tyrene, Ser Sonneval and his new bride, Lady Giamet, Lord Bolor, Great Lord Ponsonney, Lady Thane, Lord Tufton. Those are just the few I can think of at th
e moment. And, of course, there’s Great Lord Barrial and his sons–and regrettably, on more than one occasion, even the king.”
Ellysetta exchanged a look with Bel.
“What is it?” Master Fellows asked.
“I don’t know that Love’s reaction to the courtiers is so much a matter of discriminating taste as it is a reflection of her rather acute sensitivity.”
“Sensitivity?”
“To magic.” Ellysetta clasped her hands at her waist. “Love senses when people weave magic. The closer and more powerful the magic, the stronger and more violent her reaction to it.”
“Oh.” He drew back in surprise.
“So, the likelihood is that all or most of those people were either weaving magic, or present when magic was being woven near them. I know Lord Barrial and the king both possess magic. They each descend from the vel Serranis line of the Fey. The others you mentioned may have inherited magic from their forebears as well, but…” She paused. For an instant, she considered holding her silence. What she was about to propose would put Master Fellows—an innocent man and a friend—in danger. And yet no one was better situated to be of help. “Master Fellows…Rain and I believe there are Elden Mages at work here in the city…perhaps even in the palace itself.”
The master of graces blinked. “Here?”
“Aiyah. We don’t believe this increasing disaffection for the Fey is entirely natural in its origin.”
“You think the Mages are deliberately turning people against the Fey?”
“What better way to win a war than to divide your enemy so that they spend more time fighting themselves than you? I know the Mages were here this summer.” She lowered her gaze to her clasped hands. “One of them murdered my best friend and her husband and led the attack at the cathedral that killed my mother. It’s possible they are still here, working to defeat Celieria from the inside.”
Master Fellows didn’t hesitate. “What can I do to help?”