Remembering Marissya’s admonitions, Ellysetta reached down into the well of energy at her center, carefully calling forth the glowing threads of power she would need. Red Fire to draw the heat from the wound. Green Earth to heal the damaged flesh. Lavender Spirit to steal away the pain. And something else Ellysetta had discovered while observing Marissya during their lessons. A special, golden something that Marissya called a shei’dalin’s love, the mysterious force that was unique to Fey women. It made all the threads of the shei’dalin’s weave shimmer with a warm, golden cast. No Fey warrior could spin his magic the same way.
“It springs from the compassion and empathy of a Fey woman’s heart,” Marissya had told her. “It isn’t a seventh branch of magic. We cannot separate it out and weave the shei’dalin’s love by itself. It’s just the natural way Fey women weave magic.”
“And do I weave shei’dalin’s love the same way?”
At that, Marissya had laughed. “Feyreisa, you do nothing the same as other Fey.” Then, still smiling, she’d added, “I’m sure you must, Ellysetta, but when you weave, your magic is so bright, its power blinds me.”
Now, holding Papa’s hand in hers, she attempted to summon her magic and wield it with control and restraint, as Marissya had been trying to teach her.
She found the threads, wove them in a loose healing pattern, and with a gentle “push” of power, sent the weave into her father’s hand. The push slammed out of her with the force of a hammer strike, her weave flaring with blinding brightness.
The startled jerk of Papa’s body and sudden widening of his eyes made her grimace in dismay.
“Light save me,” she muttered under her breath. Then, in a louder voice, she said, “Are you all right, Papa?”
Sol blinked several times and took cautious inventory of himself. When he didn’t find any missing—or extra—appendages, he gave a smile. “Well-done, Ellie-girl. The finger’s good as new.” He held up his hand to show her.
Sure enough, the angry red burn on the tip of his finger was gone. But that wasn’t the problem. She watched her father run his newly healed hand through his hair. His hand stopped in midmotion.
“Oh,” he said. Sol Baristani was of the age when many mortal men began “thinning the forest,” as Papa put it. Or, rather, he had been. Keeping his gaze fixed on her face, he patted the newly thickened growth of hair crowning his scalp. “Well…er…that’s not so bad. Provided it’s not some frightful shade of green.” His brows drew together in mock concern, and he added in a hesitant, rather fearful tone, “Er…it’s not green, is it, Ellie?”
Ellie sighed. “No, Papa, it’s not green.”
With a twinkle in his eye, he pretended relief. “Well, then, there you go.” He laughed and grinned, and reached across to pat her hand. “You did good, Ellie-girl. You may have overdone the weave a little, but the finger’s healed. Besides, what man wouldn’t like a little more hair when his own starts to go missing, eh?” Thrusting his pipe stem back between his teeth, he lit a fresh match and held it to the bowl, puffing until the shreds of tobacco began to glow orange and puffs of fragrant smoke wreathed his newly regenerated headful of hair…and a face that had lost at least ten years of age in an instant.
She forced a smile. “Beylah vo, Papa.” Weaving youth on mortals wasn’t one of the things Marissya had taught her—but apparently the patterns were very similar to regular healing.
A happy shriek sounded at Ellysetta’s right. The Fey warrior Kiel vel Tomar, his long silvery-blond hair woven into a plait, ran past with Ellysetta’s nine-year-old sister Lorelle perched on his shoulders. Kieran vel Solande, Marissya’s son, followed a few paces behind. Lorelle’s twin, Lillis, sat on Kieran’s shoulders and kicked his chest with her heels as if he were one of the Elvish ba’houda horses pulling the wagons in their caravan. Her small fingers clutched tufts of his thick, wavy brown hair.
Lillis and Lorelle were clad in miniature versions of Marissya’s and Ellie’s brown traveling leathers, which they had insisted Kieran weave for them. Kieran and Kiel had done their best to keep the children’s minds off the grief of Mama’s death by making each day of the trip a new adventure. The twins had taken to the idea, enthusiastically using even the briefest stops as an excuse to explore—always under watchful Fey eyes, of course, but rarely in clean, tidy places. The keepsake boxes Papa had carved for them years ago were now overflowing with treasures from their journey: small rocks, wildflowers, snail shells, bird feathers, whatever caught their attention.
Kieran cast a grin Ellysetta’s way. His steps faltered as he caught sight of Sol Baristani; then his gaze shot to Ellysetta. She blushed furiously. A shei’dalin’s ability to restore mortal youth was a secret the Fey had guarded for millennia, and she had just revealed it for anyone to see.
Fortunately, before he could say anything, Lillis tugged on Kieran’s hair and bounced on his shoulders. “Faster, Kieran!” she cried. “They’re beating us!”
With a final look and a shake of his head, Kieran turned away and raced down the grassy hill after Kiel and Lorelle.
Ellysetta watched them, and the tension that had been growing in her all week squeezed her chest tight. They were nearing the end of the journey. One more day, two at the most; then she would leave what remained of her beloved family to follow her new husband through the mysterious Faering Mists, perhaps never to return.
Sol patted her hand and nodded his chin in the direction of the twins. “It is good to hear them laughing again.”
“Yes,” she agreed. The twins hadn’t had much cause for laughter of late.
“They miss their mother,” Sol said. “They try to smile and laugh for my sake, but I hear them each night, crying into their pillows and pleading for her to come back.”
Just that quick, Ellie’s own sharp grief struck hard. Her face crumpled and her eyes filled with tears. “I miss her too, Papa.” Stern as Mama sometimes was, Ellie had never doubted her love—and never loved her back with any less than her whole heart.
“Oh, Ellie.” Sol slid an arm around his daughter’s shoulders and pulled her close. “My sweet Ellie-girl. We all miss her.”
She turned her face into his neck as she had so many times in the past and sobbed. And her father held her, as he always had, patting her back and rocking her as if she were still the small child who’d crawled on his lap for comfort after evil visions tormented her dreams.
She cried until her tears were spent and, when they were done, wiped her eyes as best she could, and begged again as she had so many times this last week, “Won’t you please come with us, Papa? Rain will grant you and the girls escort through the Mists. You could live there, with us, in safety.”
Sol sighed. “We are not Fey like you, Ellie. Our home is here, in Celieria. The last request your mother ever made of me before she…” His voice thickened. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “In the note she wrote to me before she went to the cathedral that day…she begged me that if anything happened to her, I’d be sure the twins were raised in Celieria, among their own kind.”
“Papa, she asked you for that when she still thought I was demon-possessed and the Fey were evil. She realized her mistake in the end. Don’t you think she’d realize her mistake about this too?” They’d been over this question a thousand times since leaving Celieria City. “Wouldn’t she rather know the girls were safe regardless of where they live?”
“It was her last request, Ellie. Shh.” He put a finger on her lips to forestall further objections. “Her wish is as sacred to me as if I’d sworn it to her on her deathbed. So long as there is a chance of the girls living here in peace among our own kind, then here we will remain. You’re Fey, Ellysetta. You belong in the Fading Lands. We are mortal, and we belong here.” His eyes were filled with sadness but also unwavering determination.
Seeing that look, Ellysetta knew she’d lost. Her father was the most loving man she’d ever known, but when he had that hint of steel in his eye, it meant he’d made up his mind and wo
uld not be budged. She bit her lip, stared at the hands clasped tightly in her lap, and nodded, afraid to look at him for fear the fresh tears burning at the backs of her eyes would spurt out in dreadful, graceless sobs.
She heard her father sigh again, saw him shift in the periphery of her vision. His hand, broad and bronzed and calloused from his years of woodcarving, reached out to cover hers. Love, rich and sweet and steadfast as love ever had been, poured into her through the touch, along with pride and gratitude, and a thought that rang in her head clear as a bell.
«I love you, my sweet Ellie-girl. No man could love a daughter more, and no man could be prouder than I am of you. Though I will do everything I can to honor your mother’s wishes, I won’t risk my children’s safety needlessly. If trouble comes, the girls and I will pass through the Mists. That’s my oath to you.»
Through vision blurred by swimming tears, she met his eyes and saw for herself the truth she could feel through the touch of his skin. It was more than she’d expected. His promise was an oath he considered as binding as the vow he’d made to his wife.
As the wagon continued its swift, smooth roll down the grassy hill towards the fertile plains of the Garreval below, Sol looked out at the majestic mountains and green fields.
“This is a beautiful place,” he said. “I think your mama would have been very happy here.”
Ellie laid her head on her father’s shoulder. “I think so too.”
“The redirection weaves are up. The Garreval is secure.” Belliard vel Jelani, First General of the Fading Lands, released the net of Spirit threads tying him to the dozens of Fey scouts spread in a five-mile radius around their destination. As they had all week, the warriors had cleared the caravan’s path of mortals and spun redirection weaves to turn away curious locals and Eld spies.
Just over three weeks ago, Celierians and their families had lined the roads and cart paths from the Garreval to Celieria City to watch the immortal Fey run past on their annual trek to the nation’s capital. This time, not one mortal would see or remember the Fey’s passing.
Bel turned to find Rain staring off towards the Fey caravan, his face drawn. “Rain? Something is wrong?” Bel’s hand went instinctively to his steel, his fingers hovering over the hilts of his Fey’cha throwing daggers.
“Nei.” With obvious effort, Rain dragged his attention back to his best friend. “Well, aiyah, but no different from the wrongness that has followed us since leaving Celieria. She weeps again for her mother.”
Bel glanced down at his hands, away from the pain in Rain’s lavender eyes. For all his power—impressive even by Fey standards—Rain could not weave the sorrow from his beloved’s heart. Oh, he could have spun a rosy illusion of happiness upon her—or asked another Fey to steal her memories—but that was not the Fey way. Both honor and love bound him, and he could do only what Fey men had for centuries: stand strong for his mate and offer what comfort his love could provide.
“You should go to her,” Bel said.
Rain sighed and shook his head. “Nei, she needs him more than me now—someone who loved her mother as deeply as she did.”
Bel had known Rain too long not to hear the comment left unsaid. “Everything Lauriana Baristani did, she did for love,” he reminded Rain gently. “And in the end she gave her life to save her child.”
“I realize that,” Rain replied, “but I cannot pretend an affection I never felt.”
Bel nudged a large clump of field grass with the toe of one black boot. Lauriana had never wanted Ellysetta to wed the Fey king, and she’d made sure everyone—including Rain—knew it. “Perhaps,” he finally said, “Ellysetta doesn’t need you to pretend love you did not feel. Perhaps it is enough just to know you are there, loving her.”
“She knows.” Rain swept a sharp gaze over the valley below. “There’s been no unusual activity in the last four days, and not a single person following us since we left Celieria City. I’m not sure if I should be relieved or suspicious. The Eld I knew would never let us get away so easily.”
Bel took the hint. “Perhaps our decoys are working.” A separate party of Fey had gone north, towards Orest, accompanied by a magic-warded wagon, so that Eld spies might think it held Ellysetta and her family.
“Let us hope so,” Rain said, his face set in stone. “But let us also prepare for the alternative—and not only from the Mages. If the dahl’reisen learn that Ellysetta can restore souls…”
Ice shivered through Bel’s veins. “You don’t think Gaelen would—” His voice broke off in disbelief, then surged back in protest. “He is Ellysetta’s lu’tan.” After Ellysetta restored his soul, Gaelen had bloodsworn himself to her service, vowing to protect her for the duration of his life and the death that followed. No lu’tan would break that vow. “Gaelen is Fey once more. His honor has been restored. Do not forget, without him Ellysetta would already be in the hands of the Mages.”
Rain’s jaw set. “I have not forgotten. Nor do I forget that all it takes is one look at his face without that scar, and his dahl’reisen friends will know the truth.” Of all the Fey, only dahl’reisen scarred, and only when they made the kill that tipped their immortal souls into darkness. When Ellysetta had restored Gaelen’s soul, she’d wiped his dahl’reisen scar from existence. “No matter what trust you may feel for Gaelen as a fellow lu’tan, do not let your guard down. The dahl’reisen cannot be trusted, and they could attempt to use his long acquaintance with them to their advantage.”
Rain’s expression grew grim. Bel felt the brief surge of power, quickly harnessed, that came in response to whatever unpleasant thoughts were crossing Rain’s mind.
“I think I will return to Ellysetta after all,” Rain said. He stepped back and the brief surge of power became a breathtaking flood as he summoned the Change. Sparkling gray mist billowed out in whirling clouds around Rain, and when it cleared a death-black tairen crouched in his place. The great winged cat fixed one large, glowing purple eye upon Bel, and a throbbing Spirit voice sounded in Bel’s head, powerful and resonant with the rich musical tones of the tairen.
«To Teleon, brother, and tomorrow, to home.»
Ellysetta climbed out of the wagon to walk the last mile across the greening plains of the Garreval as twenty Fey raced on ahead to secure their destination: the outpost built at the base of the ruins of the once-great fortress of Teleon. Lillis and Lorelle walked beside her, their small hands clutching hers.
She would always be grateful for this time Rain had given her with her family. He could have flown her straight to the Fading Lands on tairen-back, but he had not. Knowing how dear her family was to her, he’d arranged for all of them to travel together. The Elvish ba’houda horses, bred for endurance and speed, traveled much faster than mortal steeds; but Rain in tairen form, using magic to power his flight, could have traversed the thousand miles across Celieria in a single day.
Even though he still left small courtship gifts on her pillow each morning, this extra time with her family was his true gift to her, and she worked to sear every precious memory into her mind. Like this one: the girls tripping through the tall grass at her side, their hair bouncing with their steps. A slight breeze blowing, fragrant with the scents of mist off the mountains and warm grass waving in the wind. She squeezed the twins’ small hands and watched dimples flash in their cheeks as laughter bubbled from them.
Dear gods, how she loved them. And if any harm ever befell them because of her…
«No dark thoughts, shei’tani.» The admonishment slipped into her mind on a now-familiar weave of Spirit.
Ellysetta glanced up at the great winged black cat soaring swiftly towards her over the top of a nearby hill. «Not so dark this time,» she answered. «Only a little gray.»
She could not blame him for thinking the worst. Her mind had not been peaceful since they’d left Celieria City. The High Mage might not know where her body was, but despite Rain’s presence and the twenty-five-fold weaves the Fey placed around the camp each night, th
e High Mage had been able to find her soul more than once when she dreamed. He’d not managed to put another Mark on her, but each time he’d found her, she’d bolted out of sleep with her tairen roused to a raging bloodlust, roaring for death and vengeance.
Consequently, she’d spent most nights wide-awake and flying the moonlit skies with Rain.
«I was just thinking I’ll miss my sisters when we’re gone. And I can’t help worrying about their safety.»
«Kieran and Kiel will allow no harm to befall them.» The two Fey and two hundred of their brethren would be staying behind at Lord Teleos’s ancestral estate near the Garreval to guard Ellysetta’s family.
Rain swooped down the side of the hill fast and hard, Changing in midflight to the black-leather-clad form of his lean Fey body. He landed running, and a brief, swift jog brought him quickly to her side.
Just the sight of him and his glowing lavender eyes made Ellysetta’s breath catch in her throat. All Fey were ravishing creatures, but the legendary Rain Tairen Soul outshone them all. He was an immortal king whose unshielded Fey beauty dazzled the senses, his face a masterpiece of breathtaking male perfection, saved from prettiness by the thrust of strong bones beneath the skin and the aura of deadly promise that swirled just below the surface.
He was a Tairen Soul, the strongest and rarest of all Fey, a master of all five branches of Fey magic, capable of Changing into one of the magical, fire-breathing tairen of the Fading Lands.
He was her truemate, the other half of her soul; and when at last Ellysetta found the courage and unconditional trust necessary to embrace the darkest shadows of his soul and her own—to bare without reservation every thought, every fear, every shame and maleficence inside her—then at last their souls would join for all eternity. If she failed, their uncompleted bond would drive Rain to madness and eventually death.