by C. L. Wilson
She made her way downstairs and kissed her family good night before following Rain outside to the waiting carriage. Sol and Lauriana stood on the front stoop to watch the carriage roll down the cobbled streets towards the palace, flanked by leather-and-steel-clad Fey.
As the conveyance disappeared around the corner, Sol put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “She’ll be all right, Laurie. The Fey will keep her safe.”
“And her soul, Sol?” Lauriana asked. “Who will keep that safe?”
Leaving Sol frowning after her, she ran up the stairs to their bedroom and closed the door behind her. For several long chimes, she stood there, her back against the door, breathing deep and struggling for some sense of calm. She reached up to her neck and lifted the gold and amber pendant Father Nivane had given her from its hiding place in her bodice. Curling her fingers tight around the sun-shaped disc, she knelt beside her bed and began to pray.
In the deepest levels of Boura Fell, Elfeya lay naked in the arms of her mate on the dirt floor of his cage. She had raised herself up on her elbows so she could look at his beloved face, searching the blessed lucidity of his green eyes. He was still there with her, completely rational and whole for the moment. Thank the gods.
«The Great Sun rises in your eyes, beloved.» His voice sounded in her mind, gentle, loving. The phrase was an old Feyan euphemism for “I love you,” her mate’s favorite because it played on the golden color of her eyes. Once, so many, many years ago, the woman would have smiled when her shei’tan said those words. Now they made tears tremble on her lashes. She blinked, and the tears fell like raindrops on the pale flesh of his chest, tiny pools of salty wetness that mingled with the saltier wetness of perspiration.
These last bells the Evil One had granted them had not gone to waste. Even knowing that such beneficence was a prelude to horrors beyond imagining, once Elfeya had breached that first barrier of fear and given in to instinct and temptation, she and her mate had made no further attempt to deny themselves the slightest pleasure of their bond. Despite the leering eyes of their guards, watching as Elden guards had always watched across the centuries, she and her mate had shared each touch, each caress, without shame. There was little to live for but these brief flashes of pleasure in an eternity of darkness.
Perhaps that was why she wept.
Better to think it was that than memories of freedom and joyous love. Those memories only gave the Evil One a doorway to their souls.
She closed her eyes as her shei’tan’s hand cupped her cheek. In a gesture Elfeya knew as well as she knew the beating of her own heart, he thumbed away her tears. She brought her hand up, her slender fingers caressing the greater masculine strength of his. Sensitive fingertips traced the slight roughness of his skin, the hard length of bone beneath the veil of flesh, the smoothness of nail beds with their ragged edges.
So strong, and yet so fragile. He was a creature of vast power, as was she, but they were both housed in delicate cages of living flesh and brittle bone that had been brought to the edge of death countless times over the last millennium. Even now, despite these few bells of sanity, she knew he danced the razor’s edge of madness. The vast power to which he’d been born had been made even vaster by the unholy experiments of the Evil One, but it had come at a terrible price. Gods save the world if ever those sel’dor manacles came free.
Her fingers curved around his hand, fingertips roving lightly over his palm, over the rent flesh still bleeding from his attack on the barbed sel’dor bars of his cage. She turned her face to his palm and kissed the many small, deep wounds.
«If I am your sun, beloved, then you are my world. But for you, I am a light shining with no purpose in the dark.» They needed no Spirit woven between them to speak. As bonded truemates, their souls and thoughts were one. Sel’dor could not isolate them, though they had worked diligently to hide that fact. Despite the countless secrets the Evil One had wrung from their screaming, tortured bodies, this was one of the handful of truths they had kept to themselves. It was a small enough thing. Not nearly as important as the other secrets they had kept. «Feel my light, shei’tan. Feel my love.»
She drew in a breath and went to that other place, the hazily distant place where she floated in a sea of numbness. There, the pain of sel’dor was but a vague twinge, scarcely felt, as she wove invisible strands of healing Earth and sent them into her truemate’s damaged hands, softly stealing away his pain though she dared not heal his wounds. The wounds on his hands were small enough that she knew she could heal them, but the Evil One would know she had.
They could still weave magic, though there were limits to what they could do before the pain became unbearable. They had tested those limits many times over the last ten centuries, even expanded them, though only once had they managed to work significant magic. Only that once had they managed to suppress the immutable shei’tanitsa instinct to ensure each other’s survival and brought themselves near the brink of death to spin their weaves.
The Evil One had suspected something, of course, when the child had disappeared. But not enough. Not the truth. He had been secure in his knowledge that shei’tanitsa bound them as securely as the sel’dor piercing their bodies. But that once they had managed to thwart him.
«Does she still live free, beloved?» She’d not asked the question in years, but he would know. He was bound to the child through threads of the Evil One’s blackest magic.
«Aiyah. She comes into her power.»
Though Elfeya had suspected as much since Vadim Maur’s visit to her bedchamber-prison, the cold hand of fear still clutched at her heart.
«How much has she revealed?» Once the Evil One discovered the child’s true abilities, nothing would save them from his fury. Elfeya remembered in vivid, agonizing detail the years of torture she and her mate had been subjected to when the Elden servant, in whose mind they had implanted unalterable commands woven with Spirit, escaped the High Mage’s palace with her precious burden. That agony would pale in comparison to what he would do when he discovered the full extent of their deception.
«Only a little, but with her even a little is more than enough.»
«How is that possible? Our weave should never have failed so soon.»
«Her power is vast, Elfeya. Even unbound, we could never have hoped to hold it back for long.»
She raised her head and looked into the beloved bright green depths of her truemate’s eyes. Once, countless lifetimes ago, she had been the greatest healer in the Fading Lands, a shei’dalin without equal. When she met him, he had been a legendary Fey warrior only one or two souls away from becoming dahl’reisen, a dark, dread lord whose steel had tasted the blood of millions, whose incredible soul had staggered and would have fallen beneath the weight of the hundreds of thousands of lives he had claimed had not her strength and her love brought him back from the edge of the abyss.
Together, they had been the strongest matepair seen since ancient times, representing the greatest concentration of power in all the Fading Lands, more powerful in their oneness than even a Tairen Soul, though without the ability to summon the Change. And all that power, all that strength, had been captured in a single moment when the Elden Mages took her in an ambush. A knife to her throat, a single slice into her vulnerable flesh, and the man who’d once been the Fading Lands’ greatest warrior surrendered his steel and walked willingly into captivity.
The High Mage had kept them alive because they were useful to him, strong and powerful creatures upon which to test his vile experiments. But when he realized exactly what they’d helped escape from his grasp, no amount of experimentation would make up for his loss.
«If he knows…» She could not even complete the thought.
«Then we die, Elfeya. If we’re lucky.»
There were far worse things than death, as both of them were now intimately aware, but still her eyes closed against a swell of fear and denial. Though she could have embraced her own death freely, nothing in the world could make her wi
llingly embrace his. He was her shei’tan, her beloved, the half of her soul that she must protect at all costs. She would suffer any torment to ensure his survival.
Elfeya guided her truemate’s hand to her breast and leaned down to kiss him. “Love me, Shan,” she whispered against his mouth. “As if it were the first time. As if it were the last.”
“Always,” he vowed.
She took Shan into her body as so long ago she had taken him into her soul. Wholly and without reservation. As their bodies and souls entwined, the words of an ancient Fey warrior’s creed came to her mind. Live well. Love deep. Tomorrow, we die. Never had she appreciated it more than at this moment. She smiled into her beloved’s eyes and laughed as if they were free, because she knew it brought him joy.
They could not fight. They could not win. But with each moment left for them to live, they could love. That was the greatest gift the gods could ever give, and it was worth the price they would have to pay.
As the coach wound through the cobbled streets towards Celieria’s royal palace, Rain took Ellysetta’s hand and placed something in it that sent a tingle up her arm. She glanced down and caught her breath. The rich golden light of the setting sun gleamed and sparkled like magic across the heavy, incredibly beautiful bracelet in her hand.
Diamond brilliants and baguettes glittered in radiant sunbursts around a cabochon Tairen’s Eye crystal, much larger and richer in color than Dajan’s sorreisu kiyr, which she was wearing around her throat. The band was fashioned in the shape of two golden tairen holding the crystal aloft on the backs of their proud heads and outstretched wings.
“The crystal was my father’s, delivered to me after he and my mother died.”
“Oh Rain, it’s beautiful.” It was stunning. She started to give it back to him, but he stopped her, his hand closing around hers. She felt his surprise, his uncertainty.
“This gift…does not please you?”
“It’s for me?”
“Aiyah, of course.”
She drew a breath. “I thought you meant it was your father’s Soul Quest crystal—”
“Aiyah, it is,” he confirmed. “The sorreisu kiyr of my father, my dearest possession, which I give into your keeping. My parents were not truemated, so my mother never wore it, but I think my father would be pleased to have his son’s shei’tani wear his crystal. Kieran made the bracelet today while you were packing. Will you accept it?”
She nodded, and he clasped the bracelet around her right wrist. Her hand—her entire arm—tingled. Rajahl vel’En Daris’s crystal hummed against her skin, and the resonance of it seemed to generate an echoing vibration in Dajan’s crystal. It swept up through her skin to the tiara in her hair, where one of the loaned sorreisu kiyr responded with its own shimmering power. Bel’s crystal, she realized with eerie perception..
Dajan, Rajahl, and Bel’s Soul Quest crystals were all resonating in a joint harmonic that pulsed in time with the beating of her own heart. As if they—and she—were somehow joined.
“Rain,” she whispered, “I can feel your father’s crystal and Dajan’s…like a heartbeat.”
His eyes gleamed with catlike satisfaction in the Fire-light. “That is a good sign, shei’tani. Your magic recognizes the magic of the warriors whose crystals you wear.”
“Bel’s crystal is beating, too.”
“He has bloodsworn himself to you. That bound his soul to your service. Dajan forged a tie between his soul and yours when he died trying to protect you.”
“And your father’s crystal?”
“The link is a reflection of your bond to me. It is good that you feel it so strongly.”
“It feels…strange.”
“That will pass in a moment as your body absorbs the resonance into itself.”
She held her breath, and the energies quieted…still there, but less noticeable. Rain watched her, smiling. There was a deep-seated peace in him she’d never sensed before. “You seem pleased,” she said. “Did your meeting with Dorian go well?” He’d sent the selkahr shards and word of the demon attack to the king, then gone to see him in person as soon as their session with Master Fellows concluded.
“It did. I will address the Council directly tomorrow. If I cannot convince them, he has promised to invoke primus. One way or another, the borders will remain closed.”
“But you still want us to wed and leave tomorrow.”
“I do. Keeping the borders closed only stops the Mages from sending their agents freely into every city and hamlet. It does not mean the danger is past. I’m sorry, shei’tani, I know you would like more time, but I need you safe behind the Faering Mists.”
“It’s all right.” She laid her hand over his. “As long as I can visit my family, nothing else holds me in Celieria. I’m ready to go to the Fading Lands with you. I’m ready to learn how to use my magic and do whatever I can to save the tairen.”
“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.”
With her hand on the back of Rain’s wrist, Ellysetta descended the curving staircase. She looked out over the sea of faces below, and all she could think was that the last time she’d descended this staircase, she’d ended up humiliating herself and everyone else at the dinner.
As Prime Minister Corrias approached to greet them, she saw his gaze flicker briefly over the wealth of Tairen’s Eye crystals she wore. He bowed, and his forehead nearly touched the floor. “My Lord Feyreisen, Lady Ellysetta.” There was respect in his voice. And a hint of fear. He had not escaped the other night’s Spirit weave unscathed, then.
She murmured what she hoped was a suitable reply and breathed a little easier when Rain guided her past the prime minister, saying, “Come, shei’tani. We must greet our hosts, and give the prince and his betrothed our blessings.”
Queen Annoura, Ellysetta noted when they reached the dais, was missing the usual predatory gleam in her eyes. Instead, there was wariness and chilly respect and—as with Lord Corrias—a hint of fear. «She knows I spun that Spirit weave, doesn’t she?»
«Dorian told her,» Rain confirmed.
Surprisingly, the queen’s reaction hurt. Ellysetta was used to the fear and distrust of the common folk of the West End, but she had not expected it from the queen of all Celieria.
Behind the queen and off to one side, stood the queen’s ladies-in-waiting, including a beautiful young woman with dark hair and stunning blue eyes, whom Ellie recalled meeting briefly at the previous dinner. What was her name? Jiarine? She was staring at Ellysetta with a strange intensity. Jiarine looked away as soon as their eyes met, but the brief exchange of glances left Ellysetta frowning. There was something unsettling about the lady.
King Dorian greeted her with a crooked smile and false heartiness. «I trust we’ll have a less eventful evening tonight, Lady Ellysetta?» he added, surprising her by weaving his thoughts on the common Fey thread. «I’m getting a bit old for that much excitement.»
She blushed and promised to avoid the pinalle and keflee. After sharing a few more stilted pleasantries with the king and queen, Ellysetta and Rain moved to the left of the dais where Prince Dorian and his betrothed sat on smaller thrones.
The couple stood as they approached. The prince gave first Rain, then Ellysetta a quarter bow, and Lady Nadela made a curtsey of similar respect. There was no fear in either of their gazes, only youthful arrogance and a touch of resentment. Oddly enough, that made Ellysetta relax. The arrogance of Celierian nobility was something familiar and understood.
She stood silent as Rain laid his hands on the young couple and said, “The blessings of the Fey upon you, Prince Dorian and Lady Nadela. May you enjoy long life, prosperity, and the continuation of your line.” He stepped back. «Now you give them your blessing, Ellysetta.»
She gave the couple an apologetic look. “Though the Fey have accepted me as one of their o
wn, I wouldn’t feel right offering you their blessings. I do, however, believe in the grace and mercy of the gods. If you’ll permit me, it’s their blessing I’d like to request on your behalf.”
Prince Dorian and Lady Nadela shared a glance, then the prince nodded. “Of course.”
Ellysetta smiled, relieved. “Thank you.” She reached out and took the couple’s hands in hers. “May the gods bless you, Prince Dorian and Lady Nadela, with a long life, a strong love, and the happiness of many healthy children.” A strange, tingling warmth hummed through her, and her vision took on the fecund green glow of Earth. The tingling sensation concentrated in her chest, then traveled down the lengths of her arms and into her hands, where it flowed out of her fingertips and was gone, leaving only a cozy warmth and slight weariness.
She blinked and shook herself to clear her head. The prince and his bride stood before her, swaying slightly. The Tairen’s Eye crystal on her wrist shone with glimmering rainbow lights that dimmed even as she glanced at it in surprise.
A hand touched her elbow. Approval and joy and gleaming hope flooded her senses as Rain guided her away from the royals.
“That was no level-one weave,” Kieran said.
The warriors shared glances amongst themselves. “The gods are her key,” Bel murmured.
“What is it?” she asked. “What did I do?”
“You spun a shei’dalin’s weave upon them,” Rain told her. “You gave them health. And long life. And fertility.”
“I did?”
“Aiyah.”
“How did I do that?”
“We’ve all seen you spin powerful weaves before, despite the barriers that seem to block your magic most of the time. We’ve finally realized how you do it. The gods are your key. You call upon them just before you weave instinctive magic.” He cocked his head to one side. “Your mother raised you to believe that magic was evil but miracles from the gods were good. So when you need a small miracle, you call upon the gods, and they answer by releasing the magic within you. That’s your key.”