by C. L. Wilson
Now, with Rain Tairen Soul in the city and suddenly becoming a fixture in Ellie’s life, Selianne was probably terrified that he would find out the truth about Selianne and her mother and come to kill them. Despite the risk of discovery, there was no way Ellie could ignore Selianne’s summons.
On the ground, she ducked into the deeper shadows of a small alcove near the courtyard gate and bent to don her boots. When she rose, she let out a strangled cry.
Belliard vel Jelani stood before her, his Fey skin shining faintly, his dark eyes watchful. “You wish to go somewhere, Ellysetta Baristani?”
“I…” Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. Behind Belliard stood the other four Fey of her quintet, each wearing a similar blank but watchful expression. “I wanted to go for a walk to get some fresh air.”
Belliard glanced at the ivy trellis behind her and followed the path she’d taken out her bedroom window, then returned his flat gaze to hers. “You are the Feyreisa,” he said. “You need only to ask, and we will accompany you to your chosen destination.”
She paused a moment to regain her composure, then lifted her chin. “I’m going to meet a friend, and your presence will only alarm her.”
“We will accompany you, all the same. You are Rain Tairen Soul’s truemate, and all the city knows it. There are those who might think to harm the Fey through you.”
For a moment, Ellie considered heading straight back to her room, but she couldn’t just leave Selianne waiting at the museum. Remembering the way her father had bargained with the Fey warriors earlier, Ellie gathered her courage and said, “If you insist on coming, Ser vel Jelani, you must swear an oath of honor that you’ll give my friend and me privacy. No eavesdropping or mind reading.”
Belliard’s expression never wavered. “Aiyah, Ellysetta Baristani. I do so vow.” When her gaze flickered to the four Fey behind him, he added, “I speak for all of your cha’kor, your quintet. We are here not to spy, but to protect.”
She took a deep breath. “Well, let’s go, then. I don’t want my friend to worry.”
Surrounded by her escort of five leather-and-steel-clad immortals, Ellie hurried down the alleyway, then turned east on the lane that ran through the West End’s quiet merchant district. Fire-lit lamps cast a golden glow over the cobblestones and storefronts.
“Do you climb out of your bedroom window often, kem’falla?” Belliard asked as they walked.
Ellie felt her cheeks heat up. “No.” Her parents were sound enough sleepers that she usually went out the kitchen door.
“But this is not the first time you have done so.”
“Not the first time, no.”
“I had not thought Celieria’s daughters were so…adventurous.”
“Most aren’t.” If her parents had known she slipped out of the house at night, they would have put an immediate stop to it. But the nightmares that plagued her all her life made sleep difficult, and alone in the silence of the small bells, Ellysetta had often found peace by walking in the night air. At first she’d kept to the private courtyard behind the house, but as she grew older the courtyard began to feel too confining and she started to roam farther. Most nights, she ended up at the same place she was going now—Celieria’s National Museum of Art.
“You are either very brave or very foolish, Ellysetta Baristani. Night streets are no place for young women alone.”
Ellie shrugged. In all the years she’d walked alone at night, she’d never had a problem. Indeed, no one had ever even seemed to notice her presence before. “Celieria is well patrolled, the streets are well lit, and this is an honest part of the city.”
“Evil has an affinity for the night. Even in well-lit, well-patrolled, honest quarters.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She glanced at the other four Fey, then back to Belliard. “Since you seem determined to guard me, perhaps you should tell me your names.”
The five Fey bowed and introduced themselves one by one. The smiling, brown-haired Fey was Kieran vel Solande, son of the shei’dalin Marissya and her truemate Dax. The blond warrior whose face Lorelle had scratched was Kiel vel Tomar. The other two, both black-haired and brown-eyed, were brothers, Rowan and Adrial vel Arquinas.
“There are another five Fey in your secondary quintet who will guard you for the few bells in the night when we must sleep,” Belliard added.
“Mama will just love that,” Ellie muttered.
“Your mother does not like magic or magical races?”
“She’s from the north. The magic from the Mage Wars left behind many evil things. Dangerous, mutated creatures; dark places no one dares enter.” Even children with frightening afflictions. “Magic and Celierians don’t mix well.”
“And yet, here in Celieria City, the people accept magic and its benefits without question.” Belliard pointed to the Fire-lit lamps.
“Well, the Mages never sacked Celieria City, did they? The worst of the Wars never reached south of Vrest. People here would feel different if mutated predators like lyrant roamed their woods, or if their children were born with ghastly deformities and deadly powers.”
“Do you share your mother’s fear of magic?”
Ellie hesitated before answering. “Magic…makes me uncomfortable.” For the past year or so, if anyone wielded strong magic around her, she would get terrible headaches and her sleep would be tormented by particularly horrible nightmares. She didn’t even want to think what her dreams held in store for her tonight.
They reached Celieria’s main thoroughfare and turned north. Though most of the hardworking families of the West End were asleep, that was not true of all of Celieria’s population. Carriages rolled down the cobbled street, carrying nobles in colorful silks and satins to their night’s entertainment. Men and women, some well dressed, some more commonly so, strolled down the wide bricked sidewalks on either side of the road. Boisterous laughter and music poured through the doors of numerous pubs.
Normally, Ellie didn’t come out until much later at night, when fewer people roamed the city. She was very aware of her Fey escort’s distinctive garb. “You’re going to draw attention.”
Belliard vel Jelani shared a glance with his fellow Fey, then gestured. Lavender light glowed around them, and when it faded, all five warriors were dressed in simple Celierian clothing and their Fey skin had lost its luminescence. They were still too handsome to be pure mortal, but their disguises would allow them to walk without drawing too much attention to themselves.
Ellie rubbed at the goose bumps that rose on her skin in response to Belliard’s magic. “Nice trick.”
They turned the corner and slipped into the streams of people walking the sidewalks. A number of women gave the Fey long, hungry looks, but no one stopped them or acted as though their presence were anything out of the ordinary. Ellie led the way up the remaining half mile to the arched bridge that spanned the Velpin River.
Celieria’s National Museum of Art lay on the other side of the river. The domed building was the crowning feature of a sprawling, manicured park that bordered the Velpin’s magic-purified waters. Circled by Fire-lamps, the building gleamed like a jewel in the night.
Ellie hurried up the wide brick walkway to the museum’s entrance and pushed open the leaded-glass doors. Though the museum staff departed promptly at seventeen bells each day, the museum doors were never locked. Something far more powerful than bolted doors protected the building’s many priceless treasures. Any thief could wander in and look to his heart’s content, but let him touch a single precious piece of art and he’d be paralyzed until the curator arrived in the morning.
“Don’t touch any of the exhibits,” Ellie warned. Her voice echoed in the marbled vestibule. She led them through the domed rotunda, where marble columns ringed a twenty-foot statue of King Dorian I holding his sword upraised in one hand, his Fey wife beside him with healing hands splayed over the upturned face of a child. At the base of the statue, deeply carved letters painted with pure gold proclaimed the majestic pr
omise of Celieria’s creed: Might and mercy shall vanquish all foes.
She headed down the second arching corridor on the left. Sculpted tairen heads with glowing ruby eyes flanked the entrance to the Fey wing.
Ellie’s friend Selianne Pyerson was sitting on a cushioned bench beside the alcove that housed an eight-foot bronze of a tairen rampant perched on a boulder of white marble veined with gold. Selianne’s normally tidy blond hair was disheveled, as if she’d been running her hands through it, and her pretty face was drawn tight in lines of worry and agitation. She jumped to her feet when she caught sight of Ellie, then froze when she realized her friend was not alone.
“Who are they?” Selianne gestured to the five men standing behind Ellie.
“They are…um…my guards.” Faint lavender light shimmered, and the Fey assumed their true appearance.
Selianne stumbled back a step. “It’s true, then. The Tairen Soul really did claim you as his mate.”
“Apparently so.” Ellie introduced the five warriors to her friend. “Selianne and I have been friends since my family first came to Celieria City.” They’d been childhood outcasts together, Selianne for being the foreign-born daughter of a Sorrelian sea captain and his wife, and Ellie for her odd appearance and strange ways.
Selianne dragged Ellie back a few steps and hissed into her ear, “I can’t believe you brought Fey with you. What if they…you know…read my mind or something?”
“They won’t,” Ellie assured her. “I made them give an honor oath not to eavesdrop or mind read before I let them come with me.” She glanced at Belliard behind her. “Would you mind giving us that privacy now?”
He bowed. “I will build a privacy shield around you both. You may walk and speak freely to one another without worry that others will hear.” He raised his hands, and threads of faintly glowing white and lavender magic spun out from his fingertips. Ellie felt a soft, cool wind swirl around her. It smelled of springtime, full of sweet rain and crisp morning air. As it closed about her, she felt a strangely light and tranquil silence enter her mind, as if a pressure she’d never realized existed had been lifted.
Selianne stared at Ellie. “You can feel their magic, can’t you?”
Ellie raised her brows. “Can’t you?”
“No. I know he’s weaving magic, because he said so and his hands are glowing a little more, but even knowing it’s there, I can’t sense it.” She lifted shaking hands to her mouth and turned away. “Dear gods. I can’t believe you brought them with you, Fey oath or not.”
“I’m sorry, Sel. It was either that or not come at all, and your note sounded so frightened. I did the best I could.”
“I know. I’m sorry that I sounded ungrateful. I do appreciate your coming, and at least you didn’t bring…him…with you.” She jerked her chin towards one of the paintings of Rain Tairen Soul. “It’s bad enough that he’s here in the city—but to have him claim you. What happens when he finds out about my mother?”
Ellie clasped Selianne’s hands. “He’s not going to find out,” she vowed, staring earnestly into her friend’s terrified blue eyes. “I won’t let him. I’ll lock the memory away so deep inside me, he won’t be able to find it, and we’ll just stay away from each other until he’s gone. Do you hear me? Everything’s going to be all right.” She filled her voice with conviction, and kept her hands clasped tight around Selianne’s cold fingers until her friend’s terror began to abate.
After several moments, the reassurance seemed to sink in. Selianne nodded and drew a deep breath. “All right. Good plan. We’ll avoid each other until he’s gone.” Releasing Ellie’s hands, she let out a shaky laugh. “How soon will that be? And is there anything you can do to hurry it up?”
Ellie laughed too. “You sound like Mama.”
“I knew there was a reason I loved her so much.” Selianne flashed a brief grin, then shook her head again. “I just can’t believe it, Ellysetta. There must be Fey blood in you from somewhere.” Her blond brows rose. “Maybe you’re the child of a dahl’reisen.”
“Maybe I’m the child of Celierians and I’m just sensitive to magic because I come from the north,” Ellie answered repressively. She took Selianne’s arm and began to walk with her away from the Fey. “What excuse did you give Gerwyn to leave the house so late at night?”
“He thinks I’m with the Ladies of Light, planning the Sun Festival.”
“What will he do when he finds out you’re not?”
“He won’t. I actually was with the Ladies tonight. I just stopped here on my way home.” Selianne waved a dismissive hand. “Enough about that. Tell me everything.”
Ellie tried to recap the day’s tumultuous events quickly, but Selianne insisted on details. Soon the whole emotion-filled tale came pouring out: Den’s attack the previous night, the fire cage and Rain Tairen Soul’s claiming of her, the shattering news of Ellie’s betrothal this evening.
“Oh, that sneaking, conniving, rotten little maggot,” Selianne breathed when Ellie told her about Den’s assault and showed her the mark on her neck. “But I thought the mark had to be someplace…” She broke off, blushing.
“I know, so did I, but apparently it’s the mark, not the location, that’s important.”
“Surely your parents wouldn’t really make you marry him?”
“They’ve already signed the betrothal papers, and they won’t break the contract for fear of how it would hurt the family and Papa’s business. And now that Rain Tairen Soul did what he did, I think Mama is even more determined to see me wed to Den. She’s afraid of the Fey and their magic. She hasn’t said as much, but I think she’d rather marry me off to old Master Weazman than see me wed to a Fey.” The ancient, toothless old Gilding Master was known as much for his lechery as for his exquisite work with precious metals.
“Well, put that way, I admit I understand her concern. The Fey are a frightening, secretive lot. And we all know what they’re capable of.”
Ellie stiffened. “The same can be said of several other races I could name, Selianne.”
Selianne gave her a reproachful look. “There’s no need to get personal, Ellysetta.”
“Sorry.” Ellie blew out a breath. “I’m a bit on edge.” She rubbed her arms and the back of her neck to massage away the faint tension gathering there.
“Be honest, Ell. Do you really think Den or your parents stand a chance of defying the Tairen Soul? What’s to stop him from just breathing a little tairen flame on Den? Problem solved. Betrothal broken.”
The same thought had occurred to Ellysetta earlier, when Papa had told her that he would not break the betrothal. She’d instantly dismissed it, though the possibility still nagged at her. “He wouldn’t do that. That’s not honorable.”
“And flaming millions of people was?”
It always came back to that whenever Selianne and Ellie discussed Rain Tairen Soul or the Fey. It was the one constant bone of contention in an otherwise flawless friendship.
“That was war, and the Mages had just killed his mate. He went mad for a while from a documented Fey phenomenon called the Wilding Rage. Gaelen vel Serranis experienced the same thing when his sister was murdered. We’ve had this discussion a hundred times.”
“It was murder, Ellie. In both cases. No matter how you try to pretty it up.”
“It was vengeance. The Eld murdered Gaelen’s sister—that was true murder. She’d done nothing to provoke them. The Eld murdered Sariel—an unarmed woman healing the wounded on a battlefield—hoping to destroy Rain Tairen Soul. Well, in both cases, the Eld got more than they bargained for, didn’t they?” She rubbed at the tension in her neck and arms again.
“You’ve never liked hearing anyone speak ill of the Fey, especially not Rain Tairen Soul.” Selianne eyed her intently. “Aren’t you even the least bit afraid of him?”
“Of course I am. Who wouldn’t be? He’s the man who scorched the world. But, Selianne, when he held me in his arms this morning and said those things to me…I could
have died right then and been happy. I’ve never felt so…at peace, so loved.”
“It was probably Fey magic—a glamour of some kind.”
“I know that. But, Sel, if you’d felt it…part of me thinks I would do just about anything to feel that way again. Even if it was a lie.”
“I don’t like the sound of that, Ellie. You’ve never wanted a pleasant lie over a hard truth. Never.” Selianne gripped Ellie’s hands, squeezing tight. “Don’t let them control your mind.”
Ellie smiled and shook her head. “I can assure you no one’s controlling my mind. Part of me may want Fey-perfect love, even if it’s an illusion, but most of me is still firmly grounded in common sense. In fact, I keep waiting for Rain Tairen Soul to come back and tell me he made a mistake in claiming me, and would I please just forget the whole thing.” She laughed.
Selianne didn’t laugh with her. “I’m worried for you, Ellie. Maybe your mother’s right. Maybe you’re better off marrying Den—or even old Master Weazman.” She cast a glance over her shoulder at the five Fey standing near the wing’s entrance. “Handsome as they are, I’d never want anything to do with them.”
Ellie didn’t answer. The sensation she’d mistaken for tension was now a tingling in her skin, an odd awareness that grew stronger by the second. She lifted her head. “He’s coming.”
“He? He who?”
“Rain Tairen Soul.”
“He’s coming?” Selianne squeaked. “Here? Now?”
“Yes.” She felt him, felt the hunger and longing rise up within her in response to his nearness. The sensations were frightening and compelling all at once. “He’s here.”
Fresh panic flooded Selianne’s eyes. “Ellie, the Tairen Soul hasn’t sworn any vow against mind reading, has he?” Ellie shook her head. “Bright Lord save me; that’s what I thought. If he picks my brain and discovers the truth, he might decide to flame me instead of just Den.” She snatched up her shawl from the bench and hugged Ellie in a quick, fierce embrace. “I’ve got to go. Take care, dear friend.” She hurried away, heading for the rear exit of the Fey wing to avoid the approaching Fey King.