by C. L. Wilson
Den opened his mouth to object, but the king’s hand slashed up in a curt gesture that silenced the objection before Den gave it voice.
“If Ellysetta Baristani were being claimed by the Feyreisen against her will—if he threatened her in any way—then I might very well refuse the Fey king his mate and face the consequences of that decision, whatever those might be. But you, Den Brodson, not the Tairen Soul, are the one who has molested the girl, claimed her against her will, threatened her family, and tried to manipulate this court in order to force her to your will. I will not—now or ever—plunge Celieria into war in order to support the questionable claim of an unquestionable bully.”
“She is mine!” Den shouted. “She bears my mark. Everything she says is being manipulated by these Fey sorcerers, and you are falling prey to their magic!”
“Goodman Brodson, you will be silent!” The king gripped the arms of his throne and glared at the butcher’s son. “As my queen correctly noted earlier, the betrothal agreement is between Master Baristani and your father. You have no say in the matter. Your father has accepted payment in lieu of your bride. The betrothal is dissolved. The Baristanis are free of all obligations—material or honorable—entailed by the agreement or the circumstances leading up to it. Ellysetta Baristani may bear your mark, but she is no longer yours to claim. Is that clear?”
“It’s clear, Your Majesty!” Gothar replied quickly, grabbing his son up in his arms and clamping one huge hand over the younger man’s mouth. “Very clear! Thank you for your time and patience. Den won’t be bothering these people.”
“See that he does not,” the king warned. Then he took a deep breath and leaned back in his throne. “In light of the obviously strong feelings this case has…er…aroused”—a weak, dazed laughter rippled through the audience—“I call a one-bell recess to allow passions to cool.” He nodded and the steward’s gavel cracked out the call for dismissal. The king immediately rose to his feet and thrust out an imperious hand to his queen. “Annoura, you will attend me.”
The queen eyed the passion-dark eyes of her husband, the flaring nostrils, the ruddy color of his face, and took his hand, allowing him to drag her off her throne and into the privacy of the antechambers beyond.
Only a few paces away, Ellie’s Fey protectors watched the throne room empty with astonishing quickness, the majority of observers leaving by twos with flushed faces and dazed eyes. The few dozen who remained were mostly women who stayed behind to ogle the Fey Tairen Soul and his Celierian truemate.
“Any bets on the number of Celierian babies born in nine months’ time?” Kiel vel Tomar murmured dryly as he watched the rush of departing couples.
Rowan vel Arquinas ran a hand through his black hair and shook his thighs to ease the tightness of his leathers. “And I thought the keflee thing was stimulating.” Beside him his younger brother Adrial gave a bark of laughter that he tried to disguise with a fit of coughing.
Kieran grinned and obligingly thumped him on the back. “What do you think, Bel?”
“She is a fine mate for our king,” Belliard replied in a distracted voice. The watchful eyes of Ellysetta’s blood-sworn champion were focused on the enraged face of Den Brodson as his father dragged him from the courtroom.
“Bel?” Losing his grin, Kieran followed the older Fey’s gaze. “You think the little sausage still hopes to make trouble? Surely even he would not be so stupid.”
“Not stupid, no. He was wise enough to see in our Feyreisa what these other Celierian fools did not. What even she does not see in herself.” Belliard fingered one of the red-handled Fey’cha sheathed in his crisscrossed chest straps. “A man who has laid claim to such wealth will not let it slip from his hands without a fight.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
As the courtroom emptied, Sol cleared his throat to gain the attention of the infamous Fey holding Ellysetta. “My Lord Feyreisen? Er…Your Majesty?”
Lavender eyes snapped open, bright and fierce. Sol felt his knees tremble, but he stood his ground. “I am Sol Baristani, sir, the father of that young woman you’re holding so closely. It would make me quite a bit happier if you would release her.”
“Sol…” Lauriana muttered a barely audible warning.
“Ah, the father.” Anger skated across the Tairen Soul’s face. “The man who would sell my shei’tani to the rultshart with the filthy, roving mouth and disrespectful hands.”
Sol drew in a sharp breath. “Despite what you obviously believe, I love my daughter. I urge you not to cast judgment when you know nothing of me or the reasons for my actions.”
“Papa?” Ellie emerged from the folds of the Tairen Soul’s cloak. Her hair was mussed. A few of her curls had won freedom from their confinement and now dangled in springy ringlets from their anchor pins. Her green eyes were heavy-lidded and slumberous, though as she glanced from Sol to Rain, her gaze sharpened considerably. “My Lord Feyreisen?”
The Tairen Soul’s expression relaxed, and he reached out to wind one loose flame-colored coil around his index finger. He rubbed the curl with his thumb, a tender expression warming his eyes. “I would never bring nor allow harm to my shei’tani’s family,” he announced, and his fingers set to work on the intimate task of putting Ellysetta’s escaped curls back in order. “To do so would be to harm her. You may speak your mind, Master Baristani, without fear of reprisal.” He tucked the last ringlet in place and secured it with a pin.
The Tairen Soul’s knuckle lightly caressed Ellie’s cheek while his gaze met and held Sol’s. Sol understood. The boundaries had just been established. Though Sol was Ellie’s father, the Tairen Soul was her mate and he claimed the right to protect and guide her.
Sol expelled a weary breath. “Den Brodson isn’t the husband I would have chosen for Ellie, but once he marked her—with or without her consent—she would have been shunned here in Celieria had I not signed the betrothal. I made what I considered to be the right decision under the circumstances, to protect both Ellie and the rest of my family.”
“To protect her, you sell her to a man she despises? A man who takes advantage of her innocence to trap her into a union she does not want?”
“And what of you?” Sol retorted. “Your actions are certainly not beyond reproach. I don’t know how things are done in the Fading Lands, but here in Celieria a man of honor does not approach an innocent girl and overwhelm her with intimate attentions the likes of which no decent, unmarried young woman should be subjected to.”
“Ah—” Rain’s lips curved in a mockery of a smile. “Then I should have come into your house to ‘overwhelm her with intimate attentions,’ as you allowed the butcher’s son to do.”
“Don’t twist my words.”
“They are untwisted. I merely spoke them back to you.”
Ellie laid her hand on the Tairen Soul’s arm. “Stop,” she told him quietly. “He is my father. Do not mock him. In my own ignorance, I have shamed him not once but twice.”
The Tairen Soul took her chin between his fingers and compelled her to meet his eyes. “What is between us shames no one, shei’tani. And any shame brought by the mark forced upon you lies with your parents and the butcher’s offspring, not with you. You are bright and shining.”
Despite Sol’s distress, he couldn’t mistake the astonishing gentleness in the fierce man’s face. If Sol had been able to choose a husband for his daughter, he would not have hesitated to choose one who looked at her with such tenderness.
The Tairen Soul raised his other hand to brush a wave of bright hair away from Ellysetta’s face. “Where is this mark that has caused such trouble?” When Ellie tugged her chemise aside, he bent his head and frowned at the dark spot on her skin. “Unattractive custom,” he murmured. “Why blemish beauty to claim it?”
“I’m not beautiful,” she protested.
“You are to me.” He raised his head and rapped out a command in Feyan that brought the red-shrouded shei’dalin and her mate to his side. When the shei’dalin reached ou
t a hand, Ellie shrank away from her touch. “Do not be afraid, shei’tani,” Rain said. “Marissya will only remove the mark. Like she healed your hand. There is nothing to be afraid of.”
“She won’t try to pry into my mind? You promise?”
“Nei, she will not. I promise.” Black brows arched. “Would you rather keep the mark? I had thought it distressed you and that you would be pleased to be rid of it.”
“It does distress me. I would like it removed, if she can do it. But nothing more than that. No…probing.” Ellie stared at the red-veiled face beside her with trepidation.
“I was wrong to trespass before, Ellysetta Baristani,” the shei’dalin said. “I will not do so again. You have my oath as Celieria’s Truthspeaker. May I touch you to remove this mark?” Marissya waited for Ellie’s nod before proceeding. Even then, Ellie flinched as the shei’dalin’s fingers touched her throat. “Peace, little sister,” Marissya murmured. “You will feel heat and tingling where I touch. I call upon your body to unmake the stain on your flesh, to break it down and expel it.” Her thumb brushed over Ellysetta’s collarbone, removing the dry dust that was all that remained of Den Brodson’s attempt to claim a Tairen Soul’s mate. “There. The mark is gone as though it were never there.”
Ellie touched her throat, rubbing the spot that still tingled. Her eyes widened in surprise when Rain produced a mirror out of thin air and presented it to her.
“It is made of Spirit,” he told her, “but the reflection is true.”
“I see,” she said, though she didn’t really. Understanding the engineering nuances of magic was far beyond her realm of comprehension. “Thank you.” She lifted the mirror and ran her fingers over the spot where Den had bitten her. The mark was gone. She released a breath, feeling as if a great weight had been lifted from her. “Thank you, Lady Marissya.”
“Sha vel’mei. I am glad to be of service to the Feyreisa.”
Rain turned back to Sol. “You were chastising me. You may continue.”
Sol shook his head. His anger, justified though it had been, was gone. “My point,” he said wearily, “is that you are a stranger to me. And you have sent other strangers—lethally armed ones at that—into my home to work gods only know what magical mischief. You appear to care for my daughter, but that doesn’t excuse your behavior. You summoned my family to a public forum and put our most private family matters on display for the titillation of the masses, including things better saved for the privacy of a bedchamber. And you’ve done it all without having the common decency to present yourself to me as any honorable man would have done when seeking to win my daughter’s hand.”
After a moment of silence, the Tairen Soul bowed his head. To Sol’s surprise, twin flags of color stained the man’s cheeks. Who would have thought the king of the Fey could be put to blush? It made Sol like him a bit better.
“The father of my shei’tani is right to upbraid me for failing to introduce myself and request his blessing. Even in the Fading Lands, a man must approach his mate’s family before he begins the courtship. My only excuse is that the bond caught me unawares and has left me…unsettled.” The Tairen Soul grimaced, and Sol had the feeling there was a great deal left unsaid on that subject.
“As for the Fey I sent into your home, they are there to protect Ellysetta and your family. I am not without enemies, and they might do you harm to hurt me through her. With your permission, Master Baristani, I would introduce you to the warriors who protect your daughter.” At Rain’s wave, the five Fey who served in his truemate’s quintet came closer.
“This is Kieran vel Solande.” He gestured to the brown-haired, blue-eyed Fey who always seemed to be smiling. “He is the son of Marissya and Dax, and as you may have already learned, he enjoys a good joke. There are none among all the Fey who can wield Earth better than he.” Four hundred fifty years old, Kieran was the last child born to the Fey people. Though he had only recently completed the final level of the Dance of Knives and earned the right to guard a shei’tani outside the Fading Lands, he was so strong in Earth, Air, Spirit, and Fire that Rain had not hesitated to appoint him to Ellysetta’s quintet.
“This is Kiel vel Tomar.” The lean, blond-haired, blue-eyed Fey bowed low with a supple grace that exceeded even Fey standards. “He is a master of Water magic. He likes small children, and they usually like him, though it appears your Lorelle may have a different opinion.” The black eye and scratches Kiel had earned yesterday had healed considerably thanks to the natural Fey recuperative powers, but he still bore the marks of Lorelle’s displeasure.
“These two are Rowan and Adrial vel Arquinas.” Rain gestured to the two black-haired, brown-eyed Fey who closely resembled one another. “They are brothers. Rowan is a master of Fire, and Adrial is unbeatable in Air.” Both were also strongly gifted in Earth.
“Twins?” Lauriana asked.
“Nei. There are seventy-three years between them.” Her look of surprise amused him. “That makes them almost cradle-friends by Fey standards.”
“And this”—Rain clapped a hand on his friend’s leather-clad shoulder—“this is Belliard vel Jelani. The oldest and fiercest of all Fey warriors, and my friend. Bel is a master of Spirit.” He was also a master of every elemental magic save Earth, which to his undying shame he could not wield at all. He had walked the earth for more than 1, 400 years and was now the oldest unmated Fey warrior in the Fading Lands, a fact that made Rain both proud of and afraid for his friend. It would not be long before the burden of the many deaths on Bel’s soul either sent him to eternal rest or eternal wandering as an outcast, a dahl’reisen, one of the death-and-sorrow-shadowed lost souls who were forever banished from the Fading Lands.
“Earth, Air, Fire, Water, and Spirit. Each of these ‘strangers’ I sent to guard your daughter masters one of the four elemental magics and the one mystic that we wield. Alone, they are more powerful in their particular magic than any Fey you are ever likely to meet. Together, they are nearly invincible. I sent the best warriors of the Fading Lands to protect your daughter, Master Baristani. Each of them has pledged his steel and his life to keep her safe. They will remain by her side whenever she is not by mine.”
“Well…” said Sol, eyeing the Fey warriors with new respect.
“And as for bringing you into this court to air your private affairs, I would never have done so had Den Brodson not tried to use your legal system to rob me of my shei’tani. King Dorian and Marissya persuaded me that this was the best way to handle the situation. It was not done to bring shame. The Fey are a very proud people, though I have not done them honor since entering Celieria. With your permission, I would begin anew.”
With grave graciousness, Rain Tairen Soul bowed low before the spectacled mortal who, at less than one-tenth his age, would—gods willing—be his bond-father in the not too distant future. “Blessings and peace on the house of my beloved. Life, soul, steel, and magic I do pledge to her protection. May I prove worthy of her trust.” In Feyan, then in Celierian, Rain spoke the traditional words of a courting Fey warrior to his mate’s family. That much honor, at least, he could do this man, after all the unintentional dishonor Rain had shown him thus far.
Rain bowed again. “These are the words a Fey warrior speaks to the family of the woman he courts.” He had spoken those words once before, to Sariel’s parents more than eleven hundred years ago. Then, he had failed in his pledge. Sariel had joined him in the matebond and died while under his protection. It would not happen again.
After a moment, Sol held out a hand. “I welcome you as a suitor for my daughter’s hand. And I thank you for the honor you do my house.” He smiled a little. “Those are the words Celierian fathers speak to young men who come courting their daughters in the proper fashion.”
Rain stared at the extended hand in surprise. It took him a moment to realize he was supposed to shake it. Fey senses being what they were, the Fey did not use touch as casually as other races did, especially not the skin-to-skin contact favo
red by the non-Fey of the earth. Still, to refuse this handshake would be to insult his prospective bond-father.
Rain clasped his hand carefully around the smaller man’s and was pleased to sense almost no darkness in the woodcarver. The brightness of his spirit was refreshing, and it proved that he was an honest, humble man who was happy in his life and his family. As Sol shook his hand, his thoughts poured freely into Rain’s mind. Out of respect for the man’s privacy, Rain tried to block most of them out, but he could not prevent himself from hearing the thoughts concerning Ellie’s happiness, her safety, and Sol’s related concerns about the security of his family.
Though Rain would have liked to erase the man’s fears, he could not promise more than he already had. Danger always courted the Fey people. They had too much power, too much wealth, too much that other races coveted.
“For a Fey, the blessing of a truemate is the greatest gift that can be bestowed. Master Baristani, you have my thanks for guarding her so well and for keeping her safe until now. I add my strength and vigilance to your own until the honor of protecting her becomes mine alone.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Ellysetta touched the back of his bare hand with her fingertips.
Rain drew in his breath at the sudden rush of feelings that sprang from the simple feel of her skin meeting his. The strength of his connection to this young Celierian went so far beyond what he had felt for Sariel, he could hardly fathom it. She was so young, so incredibly new to the world and to him, and yet regardless of the cost to his soul, Rain would destroy anyone and anything that dared to stand between them. And if any dared to harm her, he would shred them without mercy and dance as he drank their blood.
Ellysetta misunderstood the fierce look on his face, because she snatched her hand back and apologized for touching him.