by C. L. Wilson
Rain waited for the agony, waited for Ellysetta to shriek in horror and pain as the death she had just caused claimed her own life and then his.
The pain never came, nor did its corresponding deadly price.
The Mage’s final scream still echoed amid the din of battle as more tendrils of Fire shot out from Ellysetta’s fingertips and scorched through Elden warriors. Bodies flamed like kindling. The Elden warriors who had rushed in with such triumph scattered in fear and confusion, screaming as tongues of Fire and a hail of red Fey’cha rained down on them, decimating their numbers in seconds.
Dozens fell before Rain heard the remaining Primage cry, “Retreat!” The Eld invaders fled back into the black chasm that had spawned them, leaving half their number dead and dying in the ruins of the Great Cathedral’s Solarus.
Ellysetta’s hand shot out. The red-robed Sulimage leapt for the Well just as a sizzling bolt of power incinerated the spot where he’d been standing. The remaining Primage wasn’t so lucky. Rain shattered his shields and cleaved him in two with one savage blow. Demons howled and swept out of the Well, circling and consuming the Mage in seconds. Shredded blue Mage robes and the jeweled sash that had circled his waist fell in a small heap to the floor.
Gaelen smashed a fist of five-fold power into the selkahr crystal holding the Well open. The crystal shattered, and the doorway to the Well of Souls collapsed.
«Ellysetta, shei’tani.» Rain turned back to her and reached out with all his senses, crooning her name on every pathway, including that fragile thread of communion she’d forged between their souls and the even more astonishing thread over which he’d not shared fellowship with another Fey since the Mage Wars. «Kem’reisa.»
Primitive, driving Rage still throbbed within her, hissing, hungry for blood and death. At his call, her head turned. Her eyes seared him, and an answering fury rose hot in his veins. His own eyes went fire-bright and a low growl rumbled deep in his throat as the tairen strained for dominance within him. He held her gaze, a match of power to power, will to will, mate to mate.
«They hurt us. They slew our mother-kin» Her voice was a vibrant, multi-ply thread, the voice of Ellysetta…and something more. Those whirling sunburst eyes turned to regard the brutalized remains of Lauriana Baristani, and her Rage flared higher. «They must die.»
«Aiyah,» he vowed. «And they will. They will flee from us like prey on the Plains of Corunn. This I promise you. But not yet, kem’reisa. First we must save the tairen and the Fey.» Her attention shifted back to him, and he forced his own anger to calm. He held out his arms. «Come back to me, Ellysetta. The pride needs you, and so do I.» He spun compulsion and need on every path they now shared.
At first, he wasn’t sure his call had pierced the veil of bloodlust, but then he felt her Rage shift. The furious, whirling radiance of her eyes dimmed slightly, and he felt the gentle part of her soul swim slowly back to the surface.
“Rain.” This time her voice was all Ellysetta, shocked and shattered. “Oh, Rain.” The blaze of light surrounding her winked out, and her body plummeted from its great airborne height towards the torn, jagged tumble of marble, earth, and stone below.
He leapt forward, magic flying instinctively from his fingers in a rapid weave of Air that slowed her descent and cushioned her fall. She hovered above the ground, embraced by Air until he reached her and snatched her to his chest. Her skin was warm to the touch, the pulse at her neck rapid but slowing, and even now she glowed with a visible brightness.
Ellysetta’s vast magic had at last been unleashed and in that moment the facade of mortality that had hidden her all her life was ripped away, revealing the stately Fey queen she was born to be. The familiar lines of her face were still there, but they seemed purer now, breathtaking. Even the endearing freckles that had sprinkled her skin were burned away, leaving silky, pale Fey perfection.
She was still Ellysetta, but the shy mortal girl was gone. In her place stood a dazzling Fey shei’dalin with eyes that blazed with astonishing power.
The remaining warriors of her quintet gathered round, mouths gaping, Fey stoicism lost in stunned amazement and breathless wonder. Nowhere in the Fading Lands was there a woman who shone so bright. Nor ever had been…except possibly the legendary Fellana.
For beneath Ellysetta’s long auburn lashes, in a face that now gleamed with the luminescent beauty of the Fey, a tairen’s eyes looked out where once mortal eyes had been. Shining prisms of opalescent green with no hint of white, they glowed with latent magic.
“Rain,” Bel breathed. “Gods’ blessings, Rain, is she…?”
“Tairen Soul,” Rain confirmed. “The first born since I came into the world twelve hundred years ago. The first female Tairen Soul ever recorded.”
In Eld, locked away in the dark stone confines of his cell, bloody and weakened from the punishing wounds he’d earned for aiding his daughter, Shannisorran v’En Celay gave a weary smile of triumph. His mind reached out across a familiar path, instinctively sharing the vision. «Can you see her, Elfeya?»
Alone in her silken prison, Elfeya wept with love and joy and tried to hide her fear. «Aiyah, beloved, I do see her. She is glorious.»
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Farewell, dear brave and valiant soul,
take flight on gilded wing,
Soar high and laugh upon the wind,
while songs of honor sing
’Til once again the Gold Horn sounds,
your soul to battle calls,
Resplendent blaze of hallowed flame,
to triumph over all.
—Farewell, Brave Soul, a Fey Warrior’s Lament
Outside the cathedral, the battle with the demons was over, and the remaining Fey warriors gathered the dead. Two dozen warriors lay side by side in the scorched grass, their luminescent glow of Fey life extinguished. The grim proof of their desperate struggle left Rain hollow inside, scooped out like a gourd drum so the loss could echo freely inside him. He’d seen too much death in his lifetime, lost too many dear to him. It hurt. No amount of battle fatigue had ever made it stop hurting.
«Oh, Rain…so many lost.» Ellysetta’s fingers twined with his, squeezing tight.
He’d faced battles far worse than this, where the dead carpeted entire valleys and blood turned mighty rivers red, but this battle left a particular wound on his heart, a sorrow that would never be forgotten. Because this was her first battle, her first bitter draught of loss. Friend, mother, so many of the Fey she’d begun to call by name—all lost in less than a bell. Rain would have given his own life to have spared her that.
“Come away, shei’tani. There are none here in need of healing. Demons do not leave wounded.” Gaelen had dug the sel’dor shrapnel from Rain’s shoulder, chest, and leg, while Kieran had helped a weeping Ellysetta guide healing weaves of Earth and Spirit to close Rain’s wounds and steal away his pain.
The whirling tairen radiance in Ellysetta’s eyes had subsided, leaving Fey eyes, bright as spring grass, with a slightly elongated pupil. The raw, wild power of the tairen had also quieted. Already her inner shields were instinctively rebuilding, as they’d been doing all her life.
When the warriors stepped forward, intending to send their fallen brothers’ bodies back to the elements, she stopped them. “Nei,” she said. “My countrymen have been blind too long. Let these brave Fey serve the Fading Lands one last time, as proof of the evil of the Eld.” She met Rain’s gaze, and he nodded.
The Fey tore down the weave surrounding the Isle of Grace, and King Dorian’s armored guardsmen rushed across the bridges, followed by what appeared to be the entire Council of Lords.
“What have you done? The holiest cathedral in Celieria—wantonly destroyed!” Lord Sebourne charged onto the scene, his florid face filled with righteous indignation. “Blessed gods!” he cried, catching sight of Greatfather Tivrest’s body being carried from the cathedral. “Is that the archbishop?” He turned to face Rain, eyes wild, spittle flying. “Murderers! Dem
ons! Servants of the Dark!”
“Be silent!” Ellysetta’s voice cut across Lord Sebourne’s, curt and commanding.
The border lord gaped. “You dare? You impertinent peasant! I’ll have you—” His voice broke off in sudden confusion as he realized the fiery-haired woman at Rain’s side was not the same shy Celierian girl he’d sneered at before. “Who are you? What demonry is this?”
Rain smiled grimly. “Careful, Lord Sebourne. My mate is peasant no longer. She is Ellysetta Feyreisa, a Tairen Soul now in more than title, and you threaten her at your peril.”
“My word,” King Dorian muttered, staring in stunned amazement at Ellysetta’s changed appearance. “How is this possible?” It was obvious Dorian could not completely shield his senses from her unveiled shei’dalin power, the dazzling beauty, the glow of love that made him ache to protect and serve her.
“A glamour,” Rain answered. “A powerful weave placed upon her when she was but an infant to bind her magic and hide her true heritage so the Eld would not find her.” He turned a hard gaze on Annoura, who stood gaping at her husband’s side, staring at the Drab who’d been transformed so unexpectedly into a beauty who overshadowed Celieria’s most celebrated Brilliant. “So the Elden Mages would not find her.”
Turning back to Dorian, he added, “The Mages attacked her in the Great Cathedral during the Bride’s Blessing.” He gave a quick, terse summary of what had happened, then eyed King Dorian grimly. “The Eld have learned to travel through the Well of Souls. They can deliver armies right to your doorstep, and you will have no warning until they appear.”
Murmurs of fear rippled through the courtiers, punctuated by the mutterings of several nobles who remained blindly determined to doubt.
Lifting his head, Rain addressed the entire crowd of nobles. “More than two dozen Fey slaughtered. The archbishop and head of the Order of Adelis murdered. Ellysetta’s own mother slain before her eyes. This was not the work of the Fey or the dahl’reisen.” He held Annoura’s gaze until haughty surety faltered and she looked away. “This was not the work of kind, peaceful neighbors offering the hand of friendship.” He eyed Sebourne coldly. “This was no Fey tale or bogey story.” A last hard glance at Morvel had the priggish Great Lord sputtering helplessly. “This was a coordinated Mage attack, engineered by the High Mage of Eld himself. The Mages are alive and well, and ruling Eld once more. The Mage-claimed are already among you. Take a good look, my lords.” He gestured to the destruction behind him. “This is but a taste of what the Eld can do—what they will do if you allow them within your borders.”
Some of the fierceness faded from his expression. “What inspection you wish to make of the fallen, make it now. We burn the Eld dead within the bell and the others before dusk. It is not safe to let night fall on the bodies of the Mage-slain.”
For once, not even Annoura gainsaid him.
Ellysetta stood beside the curtained windows of Rain’s palace bedroom. Outside in the distance, beyond the city’s western gate, twin columns of smoke rose up against the backdrop of a brilliant orange and pink sky. By Rain’s command, the bodies of Greatfather Tivrest and Father Bellamy had also been burned that afternoon in funeral pyres just outside the city walls.
Now only her mother’s pyre yet waited.
The bedroom door opened behind her. Even without turning, she knew it was Rain. She could feel every part of him reaching out to her, his scent, his mind, his soul, all calling to her senses. Her Fey heritage and the newly awakened power of the tairen stirred forcefully in reply. Stripped of the powerful barriers that had concealed and protected her all her life, every inch of her body felt fragile and overly sensitized—like tender new skin barely formed over a deep, painful wound.
Her fingers tightened briefly on the drapery. “Is it time?”
“Your father is still in the chapel with your mother. I told him we’d give him another quarter bell, but that is as much as we dare. The sun will set soon, and your mother’s soul will be in danger if we wait any longer.”
She nodded. “I heard Lady Marissya come in not long ago. Did the Council reconsider?”
“They did. The borders will remain closed.” After witnessing the destruction at the cathedral, King Dorian had summoned his lords back to Council to reconsider their vote. “Lord Sebourne and a handful of lackwits still voted to welcome the Eld, believing they would ‘keep the Fey in check,’ but most, thank the gods, had more sense.”
“What of Selianne’s family?” Ellie kept her back firmly to him as she asked the question. “I know you dispatched a quintet to look for them.” She’d confessed the truth about Selianne’s heritage and why she’d kept it a secret from him.
She heard Rain sigh. “Her husband is dead, has been for days. Her mother hanged herself.” She closed her eyes. “We found her children sleeping in the apartment above her mother’s shop. Gaelen checked them. They’ve both been Marked.”
Oh, gods. Ellie pressed a hand to the cold, aching spot above her heart. She wanted to weep. “How many times?”
“Once, but that is enough. They do not have your Fey blood to help them fight further claiming.” He hesitated, then added, “They cannot stay in mortal care, and I cannot allow them into the Fading Lands. Gaelen has left to take them someplace where they will be safe.”
“Where?”
“He would not say. He merely said it was their best chance for survival, and their souls’ only chance to remain free.”
She bit her lip and nodded. “Selianne would want that. She loved them so much.” The distant pillars of smoke grew hazy as tears welled in her eyes. “Ten days ago I was a mortal girl with a head full of Fey tales. Now I’m a shei’dalin and apparently a Tairen Soul, but the Fey tale hasn’t ended nearly as happily as I always dreamed it would.”
His fingers threaded through hers and gently tugged her around to face him. Sadness and understanding darkened the lavender of his eyes to violet-blue. “They never do, shei’tani. For the Fey, there is always bitter with the sweet.”
“For every great gift, the gods demand a great price,” she murmured.
“Aiyah. And it is only through our willingness to bear the price that we prove ourselves worthy of the gift.”
“What if the price is too high?”
“Sometimes it can be. It was, once, for me. I bore it only because I had no choice. Sometimes that’s all you can do.”
“Is that why you came back?” she asked. “Because you had no choice?” She saw him wince, felt the surge of remorse and shame. A day ago, she would have rushed to apologize and soothe him. Now, she pulled away and put several steps between them. “Gaelen and the others told me the soul hunger would drive you back to me. That you would not be able to deny it. Is that why you returned?”
“I was a coward to leave you as I did,” Rain admitted. “I wasn’t thinking. All my life, I’ve hated nothing so much as the Eld. And when Gaelen said you were Eld…when he revealed the Mark…it was more than I could bear. I didn’t know what I might do if I stayed, so I fled.” Sorrow darkened his eyes. “I know I hurt you. I know I’ve made you doubt me, and I regret it deeply, but the decision to return was my own, made freely.”
“Because without me, the tairen and the Fey will die?”
He shook his head. He spread his hands, searching for the words to explain. “The further away from you I flew, the louder grew the voices of the souls I bear, reminding me of my own unworthiness and how bravely you accepted me despite the blackness of my soul. The tairen reminded me how much they and the Fey sacrificed to save me, when I was more unworthy of salvation than Gaelen when you restored his soul. And I realized if I failed you, I would fail in everything. My life would have no purpose. No honor. No hope. I would have no soul worthy of redemption.” He reached for her hands, gripped them tightly, forcing her to feel the emotion, the truth, pouring from him into her. “When Sariel died, I longed for the day another Tairen Soul would be born, so I could at last join her in death. And here you are,
a Tairen Soul, but death is my dream no longer. You’ve made me want to live again, Ellysetta.”
As declarations of devotion went, it was beautiful, stirring. Ellie, the girl who’d drunk Fey-tale dreams like water, would have near swooned. Ellysetta, the woman who’d learned better, gently extracted her hands from his.
“You think because I am a Tairen Soul that everything Gaelen said is untrue, but it isn’t, Rain. The High Mage confirmed he was my father. At the cathedral, during the exorcism, he gained access to my mind and he told me.”
“He is a father of lies,” Rain answered without hesitation. He cupped her face, thumbs feathering across her cheeks. “You’re a Tairen Soul. No Eld halfling could bear that power.”
She covered his hands with hers, stopping the caress. “He isn’t the father of my flesh—even he admitted that—but neither is he entirely a liar. Something of him does live inside me, not in my body, but in my soul. Something more than a Mage Mark. I can feel it even now.” That bit of the High Mage was still there, cold and dark, lying like a stalking demon in her mind, waiting to pounce. “I wield Azrahn, Rain. I used it today, trying to save Selianne.”
She sensed the fear that immediately consumed his thoughts. He, too, remembered Gaelen’s warning about the dangers of weaving Azrahn on the Mage-claimed. She clenched her jaw and met his gaze. “The High Mage put another Mark on me. When I wove Azrahn.” She said it almost defiantly…and waited for his revulsion.
The expected recoil didn’t come. He drew her into his arms instead, and would not let her pull away. “You should never have known such horror,” he whispered. “I should have protected you better. I will protect you better.” He laid his hand over her heart, and the warmth of his palm penetrated the chill of the Marks. “We will find a way to unmake the Marks, just as Marissya unmade the mark that worthless rultshart Brodson forced upon you.”
