by C. L. Wilson
Lauriana bolted up from her seat at the table and rushed out of the kitchen. Sol gave Rain an apologetic look and followed his wife.
“Mama didn’t mean it,” Ellysetta said. “She’s just been…upset recently.”
Rain sighed. “She never wanted this marriage to happen. She made that clear from the start. I’d just hoped that she would have begun to accept the idea by now.”
“I thought she had, to begin with,” Ellysetta said softly, coming to wrap her arms around him. “But I guess she needs a little more time. After we’re wed, when things calm down enough that we can come back for regular visits, she’ll see for herself that living with the Fey isn’t destroying my soul. She’ll come around then.” When Rain didn’t respond, she drew back to look up at him. “We will come back, won’t we, Rain?”
He hesitated, then said, “I’ve already told you your family will always be welcome in the Fading Lands.”
Her spine went stiff. Her arms dropped away and she stepped back, putting distance between them. “Are you telling me once we leave, I can never return?”
“If the borders are opened to the Eld, it would be too dangerous.”
Her face went stony and inscrutable even as irritation sizzled across his senses. “Well,” she said after several long seconds of silence, “I guess you’d best do everything you can tomorrow to make sure the borders remain closed, then.” Her jaw grew firm. “Because if my family is here, I will be coming back. Whether you like it or not.”
She stepped past him and marched into the other room, heading for the stairs. Unwilling to let her storm off, he followed and grabbed her wrist. Tumultuous emotions—hurt, anger, distrust, even an underlying current of fear—rushed into him as his flesh touched hers.
“I don’t do this to hurt you, Ellysetta.” His whisper had a sharp edge. “Would you rather I take the free will of every noble in Celieria and bend it to my own? I’ve tried everything else to convince them, but they won’t believe the Eld are as great a threat as I know them to be.”
“Then make them believe it,” she snapped back. She yanked her hand away from his with such force that she knocked over a stack of wedding presents on the hall table, sending gifts skittering across the floor. Muttering a mild curse, she knelt to pick them up. “You’re a Master of Spirit. I know for a fact your weaves feel entirely and vividly real.”
“All Fey have sworn never to manipulate Celierian minds with magic.” Rain knelt to retrieve a small silver-ribbon-bedecked blue box that had fallen beneath the table.
“I’m not suggesting you manipulate them,” she snapped. “I’m saying show them what the Mage Wars were like, just as you’ve shown me the Fading Lands. Convince King Dorian to let you address the Council directly, before the vote. Make them see the results of Mage evil for themselves, firsthand. Here, give me that.” She held out her hand for the small package.
As he passed it to her, their fingers touched, and she flinched at the contact. Grimly he stepped back to put a little distance between them.
Inside the parlor, Rain heard Lorelle ask, “Lillis, what’s wrong with Love?”
There was a loud hiss, then a screech, followed by a short cry of pain. Love came tearing out of the parlor, skittering across the hardwood floor, little paws pedaling as she made a sliding turn, scrambled up the stairs, and disappeared.
Rain peered into the parlor. Lillis sat in Kieran’s arms, her hand bleeding from deep furrows while the young Fey examined the wound. “What happened, Kieran?”
“I don’t know.” There was shame on his face for allowing one of the females under his care to come to harm. “The cat just went crazy.” He glared at the other warriors. “Which one of you was calling magic?”
Rain glanced at each of his men, all of whom were shaking their heads and denying that they had done anything to set off the kitten. He turned back to Ellysetta, who wasn’t paying the slightest attention to her sister but was instead focused entirely on opening the package in her hands. A chill stole over him. “Ellysetta?” He started towards her.
Before he could reach her, she lifted the lid of the box, revealing the small music box within. Now Rain could feel the subtle Spirit weave that had sent Love running. And as Ellysetta touched the music box, he also sensed the first cool, sweet blossom of Azrahn.
He leapt the remaining distance, tearing the package from her grasp and flinging it to the farthest corner of the room. The music box spilled out onto the floor, and the two black crystals in its lid began to glow with flickering red lights. A tinny melody began to play, and a shadow rose in the air, a chilly darkness that began to take shape.
He thrust Ellysetta behind him. “Bel! Get her out of here!” He didn’t look to see if his command was obeyed, but kept his attention focused on the dark thing in the living room. Demon. A being who’d willingly surrendered his soul to evil before he died.
Rain felt the tingle of magic behind him as Ellysetta’s quintet raised a five-fold shield to protect her. There was a brief scuffle—for some reason she was struggling against the five warriors who were trying to force her out of the room. “Ellysetta, go!”
The front door crashed open and a dozen Fey flooded into the room.
Taking advantage of Rain’s brief distraction, the demon hissed and shot towards Ellysetta and her quintet.
The commotion brought Lauriana and Sol rushing down the stairs. “What in the Haven’s name is—” Lauriana’s furious question broke off, her face going blank with shock at the sight of magic blazing and the demon streaking towards her daughter. “Gods protect us!”
“Ti’Feyreisa!” With a fierce cry, Dajan, the young warrior who stood guard outside the Baristani door, leapt in the demon’s path. Fire blazed in a red nimbus about him, and he threw himself forward to meet the demon’s oncoming rush.
“Nei, do not!” Rain’s sharp warning was too late.
The first dark edge of the demon pierced Dajan’s Fire shield as if it weren’t even there and touched the Fey’s skin. The warrior went gray as the deadly creature siphoned his life’s essence from his body. His lifeless form fell to the floor, and the demon screamed in triumph.
Whispering a quick prayer for the Fey’s soul, Rain reached for his power, quickly plaiting Air, Fire, Earth, Water, and Spirit into a single, solid fist of power that he rammed towards the creature.
The demon was no longer there.
Rain froze, power flashing around him, eyes scanning the room in rapid sweeps, but he could not see the creature.
The cool sweetness of Azrahn whispered across Rain’s flesh again, raising the hairs at the nape of his neck. The whisper became a stunning rush of power, filling the room with a gagging, sickly sweet stench. A dark rift appeared in the air above the music box. With a tiny cry, Ellysetta fell to her knees inside the protective bubble shielding her. Then, to Rain’s horror, she staggered to her feet and lurched towards the growing black maw.
Rain slammed a new blast of power into the music box and the two black stones that were the focus of the Azrahn. The box exploded; the crystals shattered. The rift collapsed, and Ellysetta halted, shaking her head as if she were coming out of a trance.
From the ceiling above, an unearthly shriek ripped the air. Rain looked up. A barely perceptible shadow that blanketed the ceiling from corner to corner condensed into a fathomless pool of darkness. It shot across the room towards Rain. He wove power a third time, using the four elementals and one mystic to form a single shining blade so dense with magic that it was a solid thing in his hand.
He spun away from the demon’s oncoming rush, missing it easily as his body moved into the light, fluid patterns of Cha Baruk, the Dance of Knives. As he came out of the spin, his blade bit into the creature’s dark form. It howled and condensed a little more, shrinking in order to maintain its strength.
A second blade formed in Rain’s free hand, a long, thin blade the length of his forearm. “Come, dark one. Dance with the tairen if you dare.”
The demon
lunged again, this time towards Ellysetta rather than Rain.
Rain leapt, blades flashing, slicing the creature to half its original size, drawing its dark rage to himself and away from Ellysetta. “Your master was foolish to send you for my mate. You are little more than a child of the darkness. No match for the Tairen Soul. Come. Accept your death and find peace as you should have when first you died.”
The demon rushed at him. Rain stood his ground and plunged both shining blades into the center of the dark being. Throwing open the barriers in his mind, Rain called power to him and channeled it down his arms, down the magic-woven blades, into the bitter black heart of the demon. The essence of life crashed into the embodiment of death. The demon wailed, a screeching cry of denial and fury. Its dark form flashed bright for a blinding instant, then was gone, leaving nothing behind but a scorched gash in the wooden floor.
Sol stared at his daughter, the dead Fey, and the destruction of his home. He swallowed hard and met Rain’s eyes. “I release you from our contract.”
“Sol!”
The woodcarver put a hand on his wife’s arm. “Hush, Laurie. We can’t protect her, and you know it. Our only hope is that the Fey can.” He turned back to Rain. “Marry her and leave tomorrow, if you think that’s best. Just, for the gods’ sake, keep her safe.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Live well.
Love deep.
Tomorrow, we die.
—Fey warriors’ creed
“What happened? What was that thing?” Ellysetta stared in horror first at the place where the demon had disappeared, then at the dead Fey lying on the living-room floor. Mama and Papa had taken the twins out back while the warriors put the Baristani home back in order and took care of Dajan’s body.
“That was the proof Dorian has been wanting,” Rain told her grimly. “That was a demon, summoned by Azrahn. The Elden Mages are here, and already at work.”
“What?” Her head jerked upwards. A sudden stabbing pain behind her eyes made her cry out and press the heels of her palms to her temples.
Rain’s concern, sweet and fierce, enveloped her senses. “You are injured.” A spate of rapid Feyan followed, commands snapped out with a force that had warriors scurrying to obey.
“Nei…no, I’m not injured. But my head feels like someone is jabbing a knife in my brain.” What had happened to her? One moment she’d been arguing with Rain, and the next, she was surrounded by her quintet watching some horrible black, formless creature attack him. And Dajan, the bright-eyed warrior who usually guarded her front door, was lying gray and dead on her family’s living-room floor. “You say the Mages sent it? For me?”
“Aiyah.” His eyes, pale and piercing, searched her face. “Do you not remember?”
“No.” She frowned, trying to recall. “You and I were arguing. I turned and knocked over a pile of wedding presents. You helped me pick them up. The next thing I remember, Bel was holding me while that thing…that demon…was attacking you.”
“You don’t remember opening the gift?”
“What gift?”
He lifted a hand and gestured to a point across the room. The remains of the music box and a collection of strange black chips rose into the air and flew into his hands. “This one.”
“I’ve never seen that before. Are you sure this came from the Mages?”
“See these shards?” He showed her the handful of black chips that looked like shattered crystal. “This is selkahr. Tairen’s Eye corrupted by Azrahn and other Eld magic. The Mages make it. No other race knows the secret—not even the Fey. If this doesn’t convince Dorian to invoke primus, nothing will.”
“Rain.” Bel murmured an apology as he interrupted. “Will you send our brother’s body back to the elements?”
Rain’s fingers closed around the selkahr shards, and the anger on his face faded briefly to grief, then stony blankness. “The honor is yours, my friend.”
At Bel’s signal, Ellysetta’s quintet circled Dajan’s body. In low, melodious voices they sang a spare, mournful elegy commending the dead Fey’s bravery and honor, and summoned their power. She could see the magic in the air. Five separate strands—one from each warrior—folded into a single fiercely glowing ply that they used to form a shining net between them. Still chanting the death song, the warriors lowered the shining net. It settled over Dajan like a blanket of light, and the chant ended.
“Soar high, Dajan,” Bel said, “and laugh on the wind. May you find joy before we meet again.” He looked at the other four who each held a thread of the weave, sharing a silent communication. As one, they bowed their heads. The weave they had placed over Dajan’s body flashed painfully bright for an instant. Ellie shielded her eyes.
When the light dimmed, the shining weave was gone, and so was Dajan. Nothing remained save a single round stone, Dajan’s sorreisu kiyr, which Bel picked up and handed to Kieran. The younger Fey cupped the crystal in the palm of his hand, and his blue eyes glowed green for several long moments. A matching green glow surrounded the crystal. When the glow faded, he opened his hands to reveal Dajan’s Soul Quest crystal, now set in an oval lozenge of gold filigree suspended from a gold chain.
“Dajan’s crystal is yours now, Ellysetta,” Bel said. “Fey custom dictates that when a warrior dies in the service of a shei’tani, his sorreisu kiyr goes to her.”
He placed the dark, shining jewel in her palm. It felt surprisingly warm, almost as if it were alive. Her skin tingled where it touched the crystal, and the pounding in her head seemed to grow fainter. She stared into the whirling rainbow of light flickering in the crystal’s depths.
“Why didn’t the crystal disappear along with Dajan’s body?” she asked.
“Tairen’s Eye is made of a magic beyond our powers,” Rain said. “Fey can neither make nor destroy it.”
“What am I supposed to do with it?”
“You wear it, shei’tani,” Rain said, taking the pendant from her and slipping it around her neck, “in honor of the warrior who gave his life in your service.”
There was a certain awful symbolism to that idea which didn’t escape her. Fey warriors wore the soul of every person who died at their hands like a burning stone around their necks. Now, it seemed, she would wear the “soul” of every warrior who died protecting her as a literal stone about hers.
Rain bent his head to take her lips in a gentle, reassuring kiss.
“Ahem.” The delicate clearing of a throat made them break apart. Master Fellows, looking bright as a newly minted coin in a perfectly starched linen shirt and ice-blue silk brocade breeches and coat, stood in the doorway. “I do apologize for interrupting such an obviously tender moment, but as we have only four short bells remaining to perfect Lady Ellysetta’s mastery of the Graces, we don’t have a moment to spare.”
When they both regarded him blankly, Master Fellows frowned. “The prince’s betrothal ball?” he prompted. “Tonight at eight bells?”
There was a strange, almost surrealistic feel to the remainder of the afternoon. Ellysetta danced in Rain’s arms, and curtseyed and practiced courtly conversation with Master Fellows, while all around her, Fey warriors carted off wedding gifts and deftly stripped Ellie’s bedroom bare and packed all her belongings in preparation for departure. Mama bustled about, scowling and snapping orders like an army general, as if that measure of control could restore normalcy to her household and conquer her fear of demons and other dangerous magical beings.
At the conclusion of their lesson, Master Fellows surprised Ellysetta with an unexpected compliment. “You have a natural, regal grace, my lady, and it has been the greatest of pleasures to teach you. Just remember, while some part of you may always be Ellie, the woodcarver’s daughter, you are also Lady Ellysetta, the Tairen Soul’s queen.” He bowed and kissed her hand. “At the palace tonight, let Ellysetta reign.”
Those words stayed with her the rest of the day. They were still echoing in her mind as she sat at her dressing table while one of the queen’s
junior hairdressers turned Ellie’s long, unruly hair into an elegant confection of braids, poufs, and dangling curls.
Ellie glanced around at the barrenness of her room with a bittersweet sadness. She might once have been a woodcarver’s daughter, but those days were already gone. She was a stranger in her own home now. All signs of her existence had been packed away and loaded on a wagon for transport to the Fading Lands.
“There now.” The hairdresser, a woman in her twenties, reverently nestled the crown of borrowed sorreisu kiyr into Ellie’s hair and stepped back to admire her handiwork. “You are lovely, my lady.”
Ellysetta stared at the elegantly gowned and coiffed woman in the mirror. “Am I?” she murmured. Her dress was lavender silk, the color of Rain’s eyes, with a graceful billowing profusion of skirts and a flattering boat-shaped neckline that nearly bared her shoulders and dipped low enough to reveal the rounded tops of her breasts. Dajan’s crystal gleamed against her pale skin. The woman in the mirror didn’t look like a woodcarver’s daughter. She looked…regal.
“Yes, ma’am,” the hairdresser answered. “Lovelier than many of the court ladies, if you want the truth. You have fine bones and beautiful skin, and though your hair may be a bit difficult to tame, it’s stunning once it’s done right, even if I do say so myself. Like a crown of fire. I can’t tell you how many noble ladies have asked for a dye to turn their hair your color.”
Ellie laughed in disbelief. “You’re joking.”
“Oh, no, ma’am. I wouldn’t be surprised if half the ladies at tonight’s ball have red hair.”
“Well, believe me, if that’s true, it’s because Rain Tairen Soul put a crown on my head and declared me Queen of the Fey, not because I’m beautiful.”
“Ellie, Mama says to tell you it’s time.” Lillis poked her head in the door. Her eyes widened. “Oh, Ellie, you look beautiful. Like a Fey-tale princess.”
The hairdresser raised her eyebrows meaningfully, and Ellysetta had to smile. “Thank you, Lillis.” She stood and brushed the wrinkles from her skirts. “I suppose I’m ready.”
