by C. L. Wilson
If Rain could promise Fey help to bring fertility to the Celierian fields, he would. But any such promise would be a lie. Fertility was a woman’s gift, and the Fey women had been barren for centuries. “I can send warriors to you, ones strong in Earth, Water, and Air. They can help manage the weather and bring the nutrients in the soil closer to the surface.” Fey with Earth magic could create food, but not on a scale large enough to feed Celieria for a winter. Aiding the world in performing its natural functions would produce greater results.
“And in return?”
“Cease your trade with Eld. Do not open the borders. That way is dangerous, the threat far greater than starvation, even if you do not see it.”
Dorian turned to Dax. “Lord Dax, I have known you and my aunt all my life. I trust and value your opinion, yet never once have either of you mentioned the possibility of a revived Mage threat in Eld. Why is that?”
Dax didn’t answer. Instead, he looked at Rain.
“Marissya and Dax don’t sense the darkness,” Rain bit out. “Only I do.”
Dorian’s expression went blank, as if a shutter had been drawn closed. “I see.”
“Marissya Truthspoke Rain before we left the Fading Lands,” Dax said. “There is no doubt of his honesty.”
“Forgive me,” Dorian replied, “but as we all know, Truthspeaking only guarantees that the one being Truthspoken believes what he says. It doesn’t guarantee that what he believes is true. The distinction may be small, but in this case vital—as I’m sure you agree, or we would not be having the conversation.”
Dax’s gaze dropped. Fey did not lie. He could not dispute Dorian’s conclusion.
Rain swallowed a bitter curse, hating the Celierian for his blind determination to believe the Eld and doubt the Fey. Hating himself for being unable to offer proof or control his temper long enough to make Dorian see reason. Hating the fear that perhaps Dax and Dorian were right, and there was no darkness, only Rain’s old companion, insanity, toying with him again.
He couldn’t say why he sensed what no one else did. He only knew he did. Perhaps it was all those Mage souls anchored to his own. Perhaps it was because he was a Tairen Soul, and they were not. Perhaps it was because he had spent seven hundred years tormented by madness, his mind a wide-open field upon which all the millions he’d killed trampled without restraint.
Whatever the cause, he knew he was right. Believed it with unswerving certainty. The Mages had regained their power, and the world was in danger once more.
“Believe me delusional if you like, King Dorian, but protect yourself in case I am not. Keep your borders closed. You’ve survived a thousand years without the Eld. Surely you can survive a few more. At least give me time to gather the proof you require.”
“I will consult my advisors. The Eld treaty is scheduled for debate in the Council of Lords next week. We will discuss your concerns, so the lords may take them into consideration before they cast their vote.”
“This is not a matter for your advisors and Council to decide, King Dorian,” Rain countered. “The monarchy did not give up all of its power when the Council of Lords was established. Invoke primus. Make the decision yourself, and keep your borders closed.”
Dorian drew back. “Primus is a king’s tool of last resort,” he answered in a low voice. “It is not to be invoked except in cases of utmost urgency. To use it carelessly is to tread the path of tyranny.”
“Tyranny?” Rain echoed in disbelief. “It is not tyranny for a king to command the defense of his country and keep his borders closed to his enemies.”
Dorian shook his head and heaved a sigh. “You have been too long away, Rainier Feyreisen. The Eld are not the enemies they once were, and I will not invoke primus on the basis of groundless speculation and hard feelings. The Lords of Celieria will debate the issue.” He held up a hand to forestall Rain’s next objection. “And unless you can provide definitive proof to the contrary, they will make the decision, not I.”
Rain’s jaw clenched. Had this fool heard nothing? The Eld were dangerous! They greeted you with friendship, wormed past your defenses, gained your trust, and only revealed the dagger of betrayal as it was plunged into your vitals. Darkness was growing in Eld. The Eld were once again forming ties to Celieria. And Rain had claimed a mate with a Celierian family. It was as if history were repeating itself, only this time the Fey might be too weak to prevail.
“Then think on it and have your debate, Dorian vel Serranis Torreval, but while you do, think also on this.” His eyes narrowed, glowing so fiercely Dorian’s face was bathed in lavender light. “If you open your borders to the Eld, you terminate your alliance with the Fey.” With a final glare for Dorian and Dax, Rain spun on one booted heel and stalked out.
Dorian frowned after the Feyreisen’s rapidly departing figure.
“The tairen are creatures of great power and great ferocity,” Dax murmured. “So, likewise, are the Tairen Souls, and with them temper is always closer to the surface than with other Fey. It is worse for our king, because of shei’tanitsa.”
Dorian turned and gave Dax a cool look. “You should never apologize for your king.”
“I do not apologize, bond-nephew. I merely explain.”
Ellie glanced at her escort of sword-bristling shadows and sighed. She’d hoped to enjoy a quiet outing in the park with her sisters before completing the rest of her day’s obligations, but “quiet,” it seemed, was a quality she’d lost when she’d inadvertently called Rain Tairen Soul out of the sky.
Despite her objections, all thirty of the warriors who’d accompanied her this morning had insisted on following her to the park as well. They’d posted themselves throughout the park and surrounding streets, drawing all manner of attention and increasing the crowds of curious bystanders. It was just as well Mama had stayed behind at the Grand Cathedral with Father Celinor to discuss the upcoming ceremonies in more detail and make her daily devotions. She’d have curled up in shame over the attention such a conspicuous Fey presence was drawing.
On the bright side, at least the twins were having fun. Earlier, Kieran had made them toys out of Earth magic—a little bear that walked and roared, a tiny kitten that sat in the palm of Lorelle’s hand and meowed sweetly, a small yellow bird that tweeted when Lillis stroked its silky feathers. In return, the twins brought their own little gifts to Kieran—a gaily painted wooden top their father had made, a small rag doll with red yarn hair and green button eyes.
He accepted the gifts, to the girls’ delight, and let the teasing of his fellow Fey roll off his back. He was courting a pair of infants, the warriors joked, and the infants were courting him back. Lorelle hadn’t taken too kindly to being called an infant, and had promptly and fiercely set the record straight. The warriors now bowed and called her “Little Fey’cha” just as the blond warrior Kiel did, which seemed to suit Lorelle just fine.
A delicate, tinkling laugh chimed, and Ellie groaned. The day had just gone from bad to worse. She tracked the familiar laugh back to a crowd of twittering local beauties drawn by all the handsome Fey warriors in the park. In the midst of the crowd stood Ellie’s nemesis, the golden-haired, Fey-beautiful Kelissande Minset. Her large, limpid blue eyes, exactly the same pure blue as a summer sky, flirted beneath thick rows of fluttering brown lashes. The delicate heart-shaped face and lush red lips that had brought countless suitors calling over the years now smiled invitingly at the Fey.
Ellie couldn’t prevent the stab of envy she felt any more than she could have stopped the pang of wistfulness. She had always longed for a complexion as smooth and creamy as the one Kelissande guarded beneath a wide-brimmed hat and delicate blue parasol, for a figure as petite and curvaceous as the one so exquisitely displayed in a form-fitting powder-blue gown of Capellan silk overlaid with delicate Elvian lace.
Ellie watched from the corner of her eye as Kelissande sauntered towards her. Ellie was instantly and painfully aware of the grass stains on her skirts, the sturdy woolen cloth and si
mple cotton of her navy dress and white chemise, and the unruly hair that had snuck free of its plait to wave in wild tendrils about her face.
“Hello, Ellie.” Kelissande’s voice was a honeyed whisper, a perfection of sound cultivated by years of speech tutoring.
“Hello, Kelissande.”
“I heard the most amazing story,” Kelissande announced, “but I didn’t believe it was true until just now.” She eyed Bel, Rowan, and Adrial and flashed them a beguiling smile. “People are saying that a Fey warrior has claimed you as his mate.”
“The Feyreisen has claimed her,” Bel corrected before Ellie could answer. “More than just a warrior.” He took a step closer to Ellysetta.
She looked up at him in surprise. His face was expressionless, his eyes flat. That was when she became aware of the tension that tingled in the air. The humor that had danced so subtly between the warriors only moments before was completely erased. Ellie blinked. The Fey were not watching Kelissande with the goggle-eyed admiration Ellie expected. Rather, they had once again affected the stone-faced demeanor that had become as much a hallmark of Fey warriors as the weapons that adorned them. How odd.
Kelissande appeared blithely unaware that she was surrounded by lethal killers. “The Tairen Soul? Isn’t he the crazy one who almost destroyed the world?”
Irritation flashed. “He’s not crazy.” Ellie got to her feet. “Girls, would you like to play Stones?”
“Yes! Yes!” The twins jumped up and raced off to round up a group of local children.
“Will you join us, Kelissande?” Ellie asked politely, though only because she was certain of refusal.
The West End’s reigning beauty did not disappoint her. Giving a delicate shudder, Kelissande declared, “And ruin my dress playing a silly child’s game? Of course not. Unlike some girls I could name, I’m too mature for such nonsense.”
“That’s right,” Ellie murmured, her hand closing about the hilt of the dagger at her waist. “You’re older than I am. Your twenty-fifth birthday is only a few weeks away, isn’t it?”
“Four months,” Kelissande snapped.
Ellie shook her head. “Who’d ever have thought I would be wed before you?”
“I’m still trying to decide which of my ten suitors to select.” Kelissande closed her parasol with a quick jerk. “And who’d ever have thought you, Ellie Spindle-Shanks, would have any suitors at all? Let alone two. Of course, calling a crazy half-man and that loathsome little slug Den Brodson ‘suitors’ may be a bit of a stretch.”
Well. Ellie had definitely managed to ruffle Kelissande’s feathers. It had been a long time since the lovely Miss Minset had struck out at her with such a lack of finesse. Surprisingly, the insult didn’t cause even the tiniest wound.
Suddenly Kelissande’s eyes went wide. “By the gods, who is that?”
Ellysetta glanced over her shoulder and saw Rain Tairen Soul striding boldly down the street. Sunlight glinted on the myriad blades bristling from his black leathers, and his long hair blew back off his fiercely handsome face as he walked.
A thrill of pride coupled with the swift bite of desire shivered up Ellie’s spine. She straightened to her full height. “That,” she replied, “is the crazy half-man who has claimed me.”
“He is magnificent.” The words were a bare whisper. Ellie doubted Kelissande even realized she had spoken aloud. Her dazzled blue eyes seemed to drink in the sight of Rain as he approached. She turned to Ellie and smiled. “You must introduce him to me.”
Ellie’s satisfaction shriveled to a heavy rock that sank to the pit of her stomach. Never once in her life had she known Kelissande not to get her way when she had that hungry, determined look in her eye, and now Kelissande wanted to meet Rain? Ellie wanted to scream “No!”, rip out Kelissande’s silky blond hair, and scratch her perfect skin.
“Of course,” she replied politely. And she wondered how she would survive the torment of Kelissande Minset’s perfect beauty calling Rain’s attention to Ellie’s many physical flaws.
Rain sensed his shei’tani’s unhappiness as he drew near. Her gentle face, with its dusting of golden freckles and large, expressive eyes, was set in a carefully composed mask, and the glowing aura of compassion and fresh innocence that called so sweetly to his ancient soul was dimmed. Something had wounded her tender heart. Or someone, he corrected when Ellysetta quietly introduced him to the sun-haired woman beside her. The blond girl was physically beautiful, but darkness hung about her like a shroud.
“Hello,” the young woman purred.
“Mistress Minset.” He did not bow. Somehow she was to blame for his truemate’s distress. Such a woman would receive no honor from him. He turned to Ellysetta. “Shei’tani.” His voice was a caress. He did not touch her—it was not the Fey way. But he reached out to her with a warm weave of Spirit. «What has made your heart sad?» When she did not reply, he sent the same question to Bel.
«The golden one with the dark soul said unkind things and took the laughter from your shei’tani’s eyes,» Bel replied with disgust. «We did not know what to do.» Had Kelissande Minset been a man, she would have found herself facing bared Fey’cha steel. But she was a woman, and no Fey warrior would ever harm even a dark-souled female except to save lives.
“Come on, Ellie!” A chorus of childish voices called out from a short distance away.
“I’m coming!” Ellysetta called back. To Rain, she said, “The children and I were just about to play a game of Stones.” She paused in the process of turning away. Hesitant invitation and uncertainty flickered in her gaze. “Would you…like to join us?”
A harsh, mocking laugh rang out. “For the gods’ sake, Ellie, he’s a king,” Kelissande sneered. “Kings don’t play Stones in the park with a bunch of filthy peasant children.”
Rain saw embarrassment redden Ellysetta’s cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t thinking.” She turned away quickly.
“Shei’tani.” He started to follow her, only to stop in his tracks when Kelissande grabbed his wrist. The instant her skin touched his, the mean, grasping ugliness of her soul poured into him. Her thoughts were hateful and self-indulgent. She was beautiful, Ellie was not. She was the one who deserved a king for a mate. Rain was handsome and powerful, and Kelissande had decided she would have him. Stealing him from Ellie Lack Grace would be child’s play.
With a grimace of distaste, he grasped Kelissande’s wrist and removed her clinging hand. Deliberately, gritting his teeth against the soul-eating darkness that emanated from her, he gripped her other wrist as well and bent close to her beautiful face.
“You dare too much, foolish Celierian female,” he growled. He let power flare in his eyes, and enjoyed the fear that blossomed on her face. How could she think a truemated man would ever have eyes for anyone but his own mate? Stupid woman. Ignorant, primitive, ungifted, dark-hearted creature of no worth. “Even were she not my truemate, I would choose Ellysetta over you every time. Do you think a Fey Lord cannot see past your pretty face to the ugliness inside? All your beauty, all your wealth, could not make any Fey desire you.”
He bound her in weaves of Earth and Spirit to keep her still and grasped her heart-shaped face with frightening gentleness. He felt her terror, and it made him smile, made the tairen roar and flex its claws. «Hurt my shei’tani again in any way, and female or not, you will have made an enemy worth fearing. This I do promise you.»
«Rain… »
Even as Bel’s warning voice sounded in his mind, Rain felt the waves of Ellysetta’s emotion roll over him, misery bubbling with hurt and anger and disappointment. And something unexpected that Rain recognized as—
Jealousy?
He lifted his head and found Ellysetta staring at him. Her eyes were huge in her fine-boned face, filled with accusation and, yes, jealousy. He gazed at her in bewilderment. Why would she feel such a thing? Had he not claimed her? Had he not set aside even the memory of his love for Sariel to court her? Did she not understand what that m
eant?
Directly on the heels of that thought, common sense asserted itself. Of course she did not understand what the shei’tanitsa bond meant. She’d been raised Celierian, not Fey.
Thrusting Kelissande from him, he straightened and held out his hands to his truemate. “Ellysetta—”
“The children are waiting. You and Kelissande can join us or not, as you desire.” She spun away and marched off. The elegant line of her spine was stiff as a board, and her thick, flame-red plait twitched behind her as she walked, reminding him of an angry female tairen’s very dangerous tail.
CHAPTER TEN
It wasn’t jealousy. It wasn’t. Ellie wasn’t stupid enough to be jealous just because Rain Tairen Soul responded like all men did when the beautiful Kelissande Minset cast a lure their way.
Betrayal. That’s what it was. She felt betrayed. He had dazzled her with his masculine beauty, his power, his tairen-fierceness, until she’d actually begun to believe that her plain drabness didn’t matter to him, that he saw beauty in her.
“Shei’tani.” His hand, so strong, so warm, touched her shoulder.
She shuddered from the instant wave of helpless need that flooded her. Dear gods, when he touched her, all she wanted to do was fling herself into his arms. She wanted to forget about the tender way he’d cupped Kelissande’s perfect face, absolve him for the quiet words he’d murmured so close to Kelissande’s soft lips.
Ellie wrenched herself out of his grasp. Pride. It seemed she actually possessed some. And it would not let her accept a touch from the same hands that had just caressed Kelissande.
“Go back to Kelissande,” she snapped. “I’m sure there are many more sweet words you’d like to whisper in her ear.”