by C. L. Wilson
“Mama, please!” Ellysetta held out beseeching hands. Never once in her life had she seen her mother in such a fury. Or so close to hysteria.
“Don’t you ‘Mama’ me! I want these Fey out of my house. And gone from my doorstep. This instant!”
“Madame Baristani, it is too dangerous to leave you without any protection,” Bel tried again. “The Elden Mages have—”
“OUT!” she shrieked. “GET OUT! Sol!”
Sol took the pipe stem from his mouth and put an arm around his wife’s shoulders. Anger had turned his eyes hard and cold. “My wife is absolutely right. You Fey have abused our trust and brought the worst sort of evil to our doorstep. You need to leave. Right now.”
“Papa!” Ellysetta protested.
“They go, Ellysetta. All of them. This instant. And they can consider the betrothal contract null and void, too. The entire flaming world can burn like the Seven Hells before I’ll entrust the Fey with my daughter now.” He jammed the pipe stem back into his mouth and clenched his teeth down hard.
“Papa! You can’t be serious! The Fey are here to protect us. We’re all in danger.”
Neither the furious expression on her mother’s face nor the sober determination on her father’s wavered the least bit.
Ellysetta’s lips trembled. She clamped them together and clenched her fists at her sides. She’d never defied her father before. She was going to defy him now.
“I will be leaving with the Fey today, Papa,” she said. She met his gaze without flinching. “I’d rather go with your blessing and a Church-sanctioned marriage, but I’ll go without both if I have to.” She saw the shock in her father’s eyes, and it almost gave her pause.
“You would choose the Fey over your own family?” her mother cried.
“If I stayed here without them, I’d endanger us all. I won’t do that. I’ve already brought enough harm to this family.”
Lauriana’s expression went lax for one shocked moment, then hardened with determination. “If you walk out that door, Ellysetta Baristani,” she declared in a tight voice, her face pale but resolute, “you will not be welcome back.”
“Laurie,” Sol muttered. He gave her shoulder a warning squeeze. “That’s enough.”
Lauriana yanked free of his grip and ran up the stairs in a flurry of skirts. The slam of her bedroom door rattled the glass table lamps in the parlor.
Sol turned back to Ellysetta, frowning. “I trusted you, Ellie, despite your mother’s misgivings. And in return, what have you given us? Lies and deception. And now the Dark Lord. What sort of evil has Rain dragged you into?”
“It’s not like that. Rain’s been trying to protect me from evil, not drag me into it.”
“Then how do you explain him?” Sol jerked his head towards the infamous Fey behind her and lowered his voice, “He’s a dangerous man. The most murderous dahl’reisen who ever lived. I can’t believe Rain allowed him within seven miles of you. I can’t believe you brought him into this house.”
“Gaelen’s not a dahl’reisen anymore, Papa. I restored his soul.”
Her father’s pipe fell out of his hand and clattered on the floor. “You what?”
“That’s what happened last night. That’s why Rain took me back to the palace.” She spread her hands, staring at the smooth, seemingly mortal palms. “There’s magic in me—and not just the little bit you’ve always suspected. It scares me even more than it scares Mama, but I can’t deny it any longer. And I’m going to have to learn to use it.”
Her father’s brow creased with dismay. He knew, just as she did, there would be no reconciliation between Ellysetta and her mother once she began using magic openly.
“I love you, Papa. I always will…but you and I both know I don’t belong here anymore.” Her throat closed tight, cutting off the last word. It was the truth, but saying it aloud was like stabbing a knife in her own heart.
“Ellie, no…” Tears rose to her father’s eyes. “We can go away—leave the country if that’s what it takes…”
“No, Papa. I’ve been running all my life, and you’ve been running because of me. It’s got to stop. The Fey can help me in ways you can’t. And they’ll keep me safe.”
“Is this what you truly want?” His eyes begged her to say no.
“It’s what has to be.” His shoulders slumped in weary defeat, and she rushed on before she completely lost her composure. “You agreed the wedding could take place today, immediately after the Bride’s Blessing. I’ll understand if you and Mama don’t want to come, but I’d like your approval and blessing all the same.”
“If I don’t want to—? Oh, Ellie.” Sol wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight to his chest. The fragrance of fresh wood, pipe smoke, and polishing oil surrounded her—the scents she would always associate with love and protection. “Of course I’ll be there. We both will. You’re our daughter.”
“Thank you, Papa,” she whispered against his throat. “I’m so sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused.” She closed her eyes, sent up a silent prayer, and tried to summon her power. The crystal on her wrist glowed, aiding her, and a whisper-thin thread of Spirit answered her call. She wove her thoughts into it and sent the thread into her father’s mind. «I’m going to order the Fey outside to stay, Papa.»
She pulled back, meeting his eyes, and added, «They’ll remain invisible, so they don’t frighten Mama, but I want you to know they’ll be there, protecting you.» She watched shock freeze his expression and stiffen his spine the moment he realized she wasn’t speaking aloud but through magic. «I love you, Papa.» She sent that too, packed with every emotion in her heart, so he would know it was true.
Breaking his shocked paralysis, he snatched her back into his arms for a final, fierce hug. “I love you too, Ellie-girl. I always will.”
Her chin trembled and her mouth worked to hold back the sudden sob that fought to get out. Quickly, before she broke into fresh tears, she extricated herself and started for the door. “I’ll send someone for my things.” She walked past Bel and left her father’s house.
Gaelen and the others followed. Bel was the last to leave.
“Master Baristani”—Bel bowed to Sol—“the Fey regret causing your family distress, but please believe me, despite what your wife fears, the path Ellysetta walks now is the one the Bright Lord himself has prepared for her.”
Sol nodded. “Just keep her safe.”
“Oh, now, that was well done,” Kieran snapped as the door closed behind them. “Insult the Feyreisa’s mother, terrorize her, and turn the whole family against us!”
Gaelen curled his lip. “What was I supposed to do? Follow your example and just stand there while that woman shamed the Feyreisa and made her weep?”
“‘My name is Gaelen vel Serranis,’” Kieran mimicked, then scowled. “Why didn’t you just shout it to the entire neighborhood? Tairen’s scorching fire!”
“She asked me who I was. I answered. Or do you suggest I should have lied?”
“Stop it, both of you,” Ellysetta snapped. She speared Gaelen with a stern look. “Kieran is right. Marissya and Dax made it very clear the Fey can’t afford any more notoriety at the moment. You no longer live outside Fey law. If you wish to serve me, as you have bloodsworn yourself to do, you must do so with honor. And that does not include introducing yourself by name to people like my mother in order to terrify them into submission.”
“Kem’falla—” Gaelen protested.
“Don’t bother to deny it,” she snapped. Irritation was better than tears. Anger bred strength, and strength was what she needed. “I know why you did it, and you should be ashamed. Whether you like her or not, she is my mother and deserving of your respect.”
Kieran smirked at Gaelen until a sharp glance from Ellysetta wiped his face clean. “And as for you, Gaelen is your uncle, your mother’s beloved brother. He’s your family. Learn to get along with him. You don’t have to like him, but you might want to consider the fact that he’s walked the e
arth more than twice as long as either of your parents, and he’s spent the last thousand years battling the enemies of the Fey. He’s probably forgotten more Fey skills than you’ve ever learned. Try giving him a little respect, and maybe you’ll get a little back.
“The same goes for the rest of you,” she added, expanding her glance to encompass all her quintet, “I’m sure there are skills Gaelen could teach us all, and we would be fools not to learn them.”
Gaelen looked shocked. All her quintet looked shocked. The mouse had roared like a tairen, and none of them knew what to make of it. Ellysetta squared her shoulders. They claimed she was their queen. It was time for her to start acting the part.
“I can’t go back. That means I must go forward, and considering where forward is taking me, I’ll need all the help and skills I can muster. So instead of battling among one another, why don’t you fine warriors of the Fey put your energies towards something constructive—like coming up with a plan to get me through today’s Bride’s Blessing and wedding ceremonies alive.”
Long after Ellie’s departure, Lauriana was still sitting in her room weeping and praying for guidance, but the Bright Lord had remained stubbornly silent. Sol had come up earlier to try to convince her that all would be well, but she sent him away. How could all be well when her eldest child was rushing headlong down the same perilous and evil-shrouded path of magic Lauriana had strived so long to save her from? With the Dark Lord at her side, no less!
She held Father Nivane’s pendant in the palm of her hand. The amber crystal gleamed in the light shining in from the window. Perhaps, she thought, the Bright Lord was not answering her pleas now because he’d already done all his talking, through the counsel of his servants.
Greatfather Tivrest and Father Bellamy had offered her a solution, a way to save Ellysetta’s soul, even if Lauriana could not keep her here in Celieria, away from magic. She didn’t even have to act. She had only to accept their offer by keeping this golden charm Father Bellamy had given her.
Giving a last, shuddering breath, Lauriana made her decision. She rose to her feet, tucked the pendant back into her bodice, then sat down to pen a brief note to Sol, which she placed under her pillow for him to find if today did not go as planned. When she was done, she headed downstairs to heat water for a bath. It was time to prepare for the Bride’s Blessing.
Once more garbed as the elegant Ser Vale, Annoura’s Favorite, Kolis Manza approached the chambers of Celieria’s queen. He walked unchallenged past the two guards standing sentry at her door, through the Queen’s Parlor into the adjoining bedroom, where two dozen elegantly garbed Dazzles stood talking quietly. Several of them cast long, appreciative glances his way, but he didn’t spare them a look. His eyes were only for Celieria’s small, beauteous queen.
She sat at her vanity, looking impressively regal in a gown of silver lace. Ladies-in-waiting re-pinned her hair and touched up her makeup in preparation for her attendance of the season’s last and most important meeting of the Council of Lords.
Vale sketched a deep bow and declared with seductive extravagance, “Your beauty rivals the shining brilliance of the Mother herself, My Queen.”
Annoura had known the moment Ser Vale entered the room. She’d watched him in the mirror, told herself she would be cool to him. But still her breath caught and blood rushed with sudden heat in her veins as his throaty baritone slid over her skin like warmed silk.
“So,” she declared, meeting her Favorite’s gaze in her mirror, “you’ve returned.”
“I know my presence displeased you, My Queen,” Vale murmured, moving closer, “but I could not bear to stay away any longer. Forgive my impertinence. I brought you this small token of my devotion.” He offered a bouquet of perfect creamy white roses tied with a bloodred ribbon. “Their loveliness pales beside your own.”
She waved an impatient hand, dismissing the hovering ladies and the flock of Dazzles. “Leave us.” The attendants and courtiers curtseyed and bowed and backed out of the room to the adjoining parlor, leaving the queen and her Favorite alone, with the door open to observe propriety.
Annoura did not move from the vanity nor even turn to face him. Instead, she waited where she was, forcing him to approach her. It was a small Trump she often played, so why, when she played it with him, did she feel like the nervous in-genue to his cool majesty?
“Take them,” he whispered, holding out the roses so that their heady scent wreathed around her. “Tell me you forgive me.”
His vivid blue-green eyes had always fascinated her. They had such mesmerizing depths. Feeling dazed and light-headed, Annoura reached for the flowers. She gave a hiss as a sharp thorn tore the soft skin of her finger.
“Curse my fool valet,” Vale muttered. “He vowed he’d removed all the thorns.” He knelt beside her, tossing the bouquet aside on the vanity and lifting her injured hand for his inspection. A pearl of blood welled up on her fingertip, scarlet against the pampered white perfection of her skin. “Forgive me, My Queen.” He brought the wounded finger close to his lips, then lifted searing eyes.
Her breath caught in her throat again. Wordless, unprotesting, she let him carry her finger to his lips and shivered as his breath swirled over her skin. The warm, wet rasp of his tongue licked the tiny wound and curled around her fingertip in wicked seduction. She shuddered, eyes half closing as sensation clenched every muscle tight and heat pooled in her loins. A strange, dark lethargy consumed her, dimming her vision, leaving only heat and pleasure and darkness.
A voice, soft and compelling, whispered to her, “The Fey have betrayed you, Majesty. The Dark Lord is in their service. He is here in Celieria City at this very moment, and the Fey are hiding him from you and the king. You must order the Dark Lord bound in sel’dor chains and thrown in the darkest pit of Old Castle prison. Quickly! Before it is too late.”
Kolis watched the queen’s lax, entranced expression crease in a frown as his words began to sink in. He could still scarcely believe the terrified thoughts he’d received from the Baristani woman’s charm, but he didn’t have time to investigate and couldn’t take the chance she was wrong. Vel Serranis was too dangerous a Fey to leave guarding the High Mage’s prize. He had to be removed from the equation.
The taste of Annoura’s blood was fresh on Kolis’s tongue, the first link forged between them…not as binding as a Mage Mark, but a bond nonetheless. He leaned closer, pushing with a force he’d never dared use on her before. “This proves the Fey and dahl’reisen are in collusion. They have been all along. They will destroy all that you’ve worked so hard to build. Celieria needs the Eld, to help it stand firm against the Fey. Only the Eld can help you save your throne. The Fey must be defeated. The agreement must pass.”
“The Council meeting has begun,” Bel announced. “The weaves have gone up.” He glanced around the palace suite and saw the tension in all the warriors visibly increase. The dangerous part of the day was about to start.
Ellysetta stood in the center of the room, garbed in a simple, unembellished blue linen gown with a modest neckline, her hair hanging to her waist in a cascade of bright, unrestrained curls. Gaelen knelt before her, fastening a pair of empty, steel-studded leather Fey’cha sheaths to her calves.
“I’ve tied an Earth weave to these sheaths and Bel’s weapons belts,” he was saying. “Your Fey’cha will re-form exactly thirty chimes after he surrenders his steel at the cathedral door. You can enter the cathedral unarmed—and answer truthfully that you haven’t brought weapons into the cathedral, should the priests question you—but you’ll get your Fey’cha back before you enter the Solarus. If anything happens during the Bright Bell, anything at all, just blood yourself with one of these blades. Bel and I will come running.”
The rules of the church—which required that brides on the day of their Blessing arrive modestly dressed and completely unadorned as a symbol of their willingness to throw off outward trappings of wealth and vanity—meant Ellysetta could not wear her sorreisu kiyr jewe
lry or her Fey’cha belts. But the Fey weren’t about to let her enter the cathedral Solarus without some manner of protection.
“The sash is done,” Kieran said. He handed Bel a stiffened blue waistband that matched Ellysetta’s dress.
Bel fastened the band around Ellysetta’s waist. “How does that feel?” he asked.
“Good,” she answered. Her four sorreisu kiyr were sewn into the band. She could feel them pressing against her skin, humming with reassuring power.
“How do you feel?” Gaelen asked.
The sudden rush of tears that burned in Ellysetta’s eyes caught her by surprise, and she barely managed to keep them in check. Directly on the heels of sorrow came a rush of anger. How did she feel? Both her mother and her betrothed had reviled her, and she’d learned her birth father was the most evil man on earth. How did he think she felt?
She suppressed the tears and gripped the anger, hardening it into determination.
She took a deep breath. “I feel ready,” she said, and saw pride shining on the warriors’ faces. They thought she was being brave. Nothing could be further from the truth. She was operating on pure nerves, driven not by courage but by the sheer absence of any other viable choice. “Let’s get this over with.”
A carriage was waiting for her outside the palace steps, along with well over a hundred Fey in full steel. Bel helped her inside and signaled the coachman. The palace gates swung open, the coachman snapped his reins, and the carriage rumbled out of the palace grounds, turning onto the broad cobbled thoroughfare of King’s Street. The Fey fanned out around the vehicle, magic shining.
They passed several small mobs of protestors and Brethren of Radiance followers, who booed and jeered the Fey, but the unspoken threat of sharp Fey steel kept the worst of the rabble-rousers in check.