The Tairen Soul smiled, and the expression changed him from dangerous warrior to approachable friend in an instant. “Mioralas,” he said, and there was no doubting his sincere joy. “Blessings of the Fey upon your wife and child.”
“Yes…well…I believe those blessings have already borne fruit for the queen and me—and for every other head of a noble Celierian House who attended that memorable banquet three months ago.”
The Tairen Soul’s smile froze on his face.
“Yes,” Dorian said. “It seems your truemate spun much more than seven bells of inescapable desire in that weave of hers. Every woman who attended that dinner—from blushing young brides to grandmothers whose wombs long ago lost their fruitfulness—is now with child.”
“Pregnant.” Primage Gethen Nour, known to the Celierian court as the newly invested Lord Bolor, stared at Jiarine Montevero in disbelief, then began to pace the luxurious confines of her palace suite. “The queen is pregnant?”
“As are all the ladies who have fallen ill this last week, master,” Jiarine confirmed.
His cold brown eyes pierced her. “Including you.”
Jiarine’s skin went pale. Her lashes dropped to shutter her eyes, a gesture of subservience that was more a matter of self-preservation. “Ta, including me, though it should not have been possible.” A visit to a butcher of a hearth witch after an ill-conceived childhood dalliance had seen to that. And years of bastard-free mating with Master Manza—the handsome Elden Sulimage to whom she’d traded her soul—had confirmed it.
“Well.”
She hazarded a glance up, to find Master Nour tapping his lip with his forefinger and watching her with a calculating gleam in his eye.
“Well,” he said again, “this does bear some thought.” Then he turned on his heel and began pacing again. “I am disappointed that you were not able to get the queen to drink my potion. Now more than ever.”
“Forgive my failure, master,” Jiarine murmured. A quick stab of vengeful satisfaction flashed before she could squelch it. Master Manza wouldn’t have failed. Master Manza had earned Queen Annoura’s trust in a way Nour never would. Master Manza had not turned the queen quickly enough, and the High Mage of Eld had sent Nour to replace him. Jiarine wondered how long it would be before Nour found himself replaced as well. Not too much longer, she hoped. Nour was a sick, sadistic rultshart, and had he been the Mage who approached her in her youth, she would never have surrendered her soul.
Nour’s eyes narrowed. “Your thoughts betray you, umagi. I see another lesson in obedience is in order.”
Jiarine broke into a clammy sweat as the blood drained from her face.
At the sight of her distress, Nour’s lips curled in a cruel smile. “Never fear, my dear. Sadistic rultshart I may be, but I promise none of what I have in mind will damage your child.”
“Pregnant?” Ellysetta stared at Rain in stunned disbelief. “All of them?”
“Every last one, shei’tani. From young wives to women well past their childbearing years. You spun fertility even where it no longer existed.”
“Bright Lord save me.”
The corner of his mouth lifted, lavender eyes warm as he brushed a curling strand of hair back from her temple. “I think it’s clear he sent you to save us, kem’san. The Fey prayed for fertility and the gods sent us a shei’dalin who can spin life into even a barren womb.” He stepped back and drew her with him. “Come. The king has gone to see his queen, and he’s asked us to visit her and offer healing.”
She hung back. “Do you think that’s wise? The queen has never been fond of the Fey—or of me—and to intrude upon her now, when she has just discovered what I did to her…”
“What you did was a blessing, not harm, whether she sees it that way now or not. And it is because of the child that Dorian is now so determined to have Gaelen test her before we leave. The possibility of a Mage’s puppet sitting on the throne of Celieria…”
Ellysetta shuddered. When Rain started for the door, she followed without protest, but as they waited for the quintet to precede them out of the suite, she asked, “What will we do, Rain, if the queen is already fully claimed?”
Rain’s mouth went grim and his eyes met hers with stony resolve. Ellysetta swallowed and pressed a hand against her chest to still the sudden pounding of her heart.
Dorian was standing at his wife’s bedside when the Fey entered the queen’s apartments, and the tension between them charged the atmosphere like an electric storm. Pale and wan, Queen Annoura sat against a wall of pillows like a brittle doll, her lips pressed tightly together as if it were all she could do to hold back a torrent of angry words. Beside her, Dorian exuded an unhappy mix of vexation, disappointment, and dogged determination.
Theirs was not the reaction of a happy couple overjoyed to discover they were having a child.
Guilt stabbed Ellysetta hard, and she hung back in the doorway. «Oh, Rain, this is not how things should be. A baby should be cause for joy, not anger. How can I make this right?»
«There is nothing for you to put right, shei’tani. You gave them the greatest gift of all—the gift of new life. How Annoura chooses to receive that gift is her decision, not yours. You are not to blame for her unhappiness.»
Ellysetta doubted Annoura would agree with him. Animosity emanated from her like an acid fog, searing Ellysetta’s empathic senses with such bitter resentment it made her skin ache.
“My Lord Feyreisen, My Lady Feyreisa, please, come in.” With a determined smile that looked more like a grimace pasted on his face, Dorian waved for them to approach the queen’s bed. “I was just telling the queen how much better she will feel once your healing weave calms her stomach.”
Rain approached the bed, leaving Ellysetta little choice but to follow. She fought to keep her fingers flat against Rain’s wrist when what she truly wanted was to grab his hand and squeeze tight. “Your Majesties.” She forced herself to smile at Annoura with as much warmth as she could muster. “The Feyreisen and I offer you the felicitations of the Fey and congratulate you on your wonderful news. May your coming child be a radiant Light in your life and bring you both much joy.”
The queen turned her head away as if Ellysetta had not spoken. Dorian’s lips tightened, but his voice was smooth as silk when he said, “Thank you, Lady Ellysetta. My queen and I long since gave up hope of having a second child. This pregnancy is a blessing indeed, as I’m sure the queen will agree when she is feeling more herself.”
Ellysetta moistened her lips and took a hesitant step towards the bed. “Queen Annoura, I do regret intruding upon your privacy when you are not feeling your best, but the weave the king asked me to spin should set you back to rights immediately. I promise there will be no adverse effects to the child.”
Annoura made a rude noise and slanted a sour look in Ellysetta’s direction. “Considering the unnatural way this child was conceived, it’s rather pointless to worry what effect magic might have now, don’t you think?”
“Annoura.” King Dorian’s hands knotted.
“What?” the queen spat. “I agreed to let her heal me as you commanded, but that doesn’t mean I must pretend to like it.” She turned to sneer at Ellysetta and Rain. “You Fey. You act so righteous, so noble. But you’re no better than the Eld. You manipulate our minds, our bodies, just as you claim they do. You spin your weaves, and we dance to your commands like puppets on strings.”
“Annoura!” Dorian roared. “That’s enough!”
The queen clamped her lips in a tight line, crossed her arms, and subsided into glaring silence while her husband struggled visibly to control his temper.
“Spin your weave, Lady Ellysetta,” he commanded in a clipped voice.
Annoura’s vitriol left Ellysetta shaken, especially because of the uncomfortable thread of truth in her accusations. Ellysetta had controlled the queen’s mind and the queen’s body with magic. She hadn’t meant to do it, but she’d done it nonetheless.
«Shei’tani.» R
ain’s soft murmur prodded her to action.
Ellysetta flicked a glance at Gaelen as she summoned her power. Green Earth came to her call in a generous swell, shimmering with the rich golden radiance of shei’dalin’s love. She guided the threads into a now-familiar healing pattern and held her hands over Annoura’s body. As the fine web of healing spun out from her palms, she added a puff of Air that blew the hair back off Annoura’s face and made the filmy edges of her wrap flutter back to bare the skin over her heart. A familiar, sickly sweet chill bloomed behind her, making her back teeth ache and the hairs rise on the back of her neck. Gaelen was spinning his Azrahn.
As quickly as the unpleasant sensation came, it faded. She finished her own weave, erasing Annoura’s nausea and fatigue and replenishing her flagging strength. As her weave sank into Annoura’s body, a sudden reactive spark of power made her jump in surprise. She sent a flickering tendril of Spirit into Annoura’s womb and smiled at the sudden flood of wordless images and sensations that flowed into her. No matter how antagonistic Annoura was, her baby responded to Ellysetta’s presence with instinctive welcome, squirming with happiness and soaking up the warmth of her magic with innocent joy…returning bright little sparks of its own nascent power.
The child possessed magic, and not some weak, watered-down version of it either. Strong magic…already well developed: green Earth, red Fire, lavender Spirit…and a distinct cool black thread of shadowy Azrahn. Ellysetta flinched away from the dark magic, only to freeze in guilt when the baby’s joy turned to fright and forlorn confusion at her sudden abandonment. The baby was not to blame for what magic it possessed. «Las, kaidin, las. Peace, little one.» She soothed the child with flows of warmth and love and spun a small weave of comfort before withdrawing again.
«The queen is unMarked,» Gaelen announced on a private weave. The sudden, relieved slump of Dorian’s shoulders told Ellysetta that he’d spun the same information to the king.
“Mioralas, Your Majesties,” Ellysetta said. “Your son is healthy and strong. May he bring you much joy.”
“A son.” Dorian took Annoura’s hand and smiled with genuine happiness. “Another son. Thank you, Lady Ellysetta. For everything.”
“Sha vel’mei, King Dorian.” Ellysetta glanced at the queen, but Annoura pressed her lips into a tight line and turned her head to stare pointedly at the far wall. With determined graciousness, Ellysetta said, “Blessing of the Light upon you, Queen Annoura. I wish you and your family much joy.” She touched her fingers to Rain’s wrist.
Rain inclined his head. “We will take our leave of you now. I am sure there is much for you to discuss. Miora felah ti’vos.”
Leaving the king and his wife to their privacy, the Fey departed. Ellysetta waited until the door of Annoura’s suite closed behind them before saying, “Annoura is right, Rain. If we use our magic to get what we want, how are we any different from the Eld?”
Rain looked taken aback. “Nei, she isn’t right at all,” he answered quickly. “She’s angry and out of sorts and looking for someone to blame. We Fey live by a strict code of honor precisely because we don’t want to end up like the Eld. We don’t use our magic to conquer and enslave as they do.”
“And yet Fey think nothing of spinning Spirit to send mortals on their way, or hide amongst them undetected, or read their minds and emotions to better control them.”
“We aren’t using our magic to manipulate Celierians. We’re using it to protect them.”
She gave a humorless laugh. “Have you ever stopped to ask if they wanted that protection? Mortals aren’t children, Rain. They may not live thousands of years or wield magic, but they still have a right to decide their own lives.”
“And Fey do not lie, yet mortals do at will,” he countered. “Does that make them evil because they use a talent we do not possess in order to manipulate and control us? Do not be foolish, Ellysetta. They are neither so innocent nor such victims as you are making them out to be.” He regarded her with a mix of exasperation and concern. “I thought you’d gotten past your fear and distrust of magic, Ellysetta. I thought you had accepted it.”
“I have, but that doesn’t negate my concern about the ways magic can be misused.”
“Aiyah, it can be misused, but do not forget all the many ways it can be used to help people as well. Such as the healing you just did. And the way you saved that boy Aartys’s life in Orest.”
Ellysetta’s gaze fell to the floor. He was right, of course, but Queen Annoura’s accusation had hit a nerve, and what Ellysetta had discovered about the queen’s unborn child had only increased her guilt. “The child wields magic, Rain. A very strong gift, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Is that what this is about?” Her shei’tan didn’t look as shocked or as worried as she was. “Ellysetta, King Dorian has magic, and so does the prince. They are descended from the vol Serranis line, after all.”
“He possesses Azrahn,” she clarified. “The queen couldn’t have children, but my weave made her pregnant, and now she’s carrying a child gifted in Azrahn.”
“I doubt there is cause for alarm. You’ve seen Gaelen wield Azrahn. It stands to reason descendants of his sister’s line might also possess at least some small degree of it.”
She frowned. She couldn’t believe he was taking this so calmly. “I don’t think what I sensed was a low-level talent. It felt very strong to come from such a tiny baby.”
“Rain is right to tell you not to be alarmed,” Gaelen interjected. “Much as some Fey would like to believe otherwise, Azrahn is not inherently evil. It’s just a Mystic, like Spirit. In fact, I believe many of our most magically gifted warriors also possess a strong talent in Azrahn. It’s certainly the case among the dahl’reisen.”
“Which may explain why they’re dahl’reisen,” Tajik muttered, ostensibly to Gil but loud enough for the rest of them to hear.
Gaelen narrowed his eyes at the red-haired Fire master. “And where do you think dahl’reisen come from, vel Sibboreh? You think they pop up like mushballs in a fellroot bog? Nei, they were born Fey, which means more than a few Fey possess strong talent in Azrahn. Just because the chatok refuse to test for it doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”
“Setah,” Rain rumbled. “Dorian’s lords will reconvene soon. Bel and Tajik, I want you to join us. There are no military minds I trust more than yours. With Gaelen’s knowledge of the north, and yours of battle tactics, we can at least give these Celierians a fighting chance until the allies arrive. Call the warriors from Ellysetta’s secondary quintet to replace you while you are away.” He leveled a commanding eye on Ellysetta. “And you, shei’tani, stop worrying. Annoura’s child is a miracle, not a monster. Training will teach him to control what ever gifts he has. You should go back to the suite and try to rest.”
She gave him a wan smile. “I would be afraid to close my eyes without you there. I think I’ll visit the other ladies who are ill, and offer healing. It’s the least I can do,” she added to forestall his objection, “since I am responsible for their condition.” And it would give her the opportunity to see how many other children conceived through her weave also possessed Azrahn.
Rain didn’t like it, but in the end Ellysetta had her way. He, Tajik, Bel, and Gaelen went to meet with Dorian’s war council while Ellysetta and her lu’tan paid a call on the sick noblewomen.
Several of the ladies turned them away on the doorstep, but quite a few did not. For those who received her, Ellysetta spun healing weaves to calm their stomachs and did what she could to bolster the strength and health of the more elderly among them.
But rather than putting her mind at ease, the visits only increased her concern. Because every pregnant woman’s unborn child was a son gifted with powerful magic—including a distinct and potent spark of Azrahn.
The proof was irrefutable, the evidence too overwhelming to be mere coincidence. She, Ellysetta Baristani, had done far more than merely cause barren wombs to bear fruit once more.
She had create
d magical children and given each of them the ability to spin Azrahn.
Just as the High Mage of Eld had done when he had created her.
CHAPTER NINE
“Well, something must have happened during our break,” Cannevar Barrial murmured in a quiet aside to Rain. “I’ve never seen Lord Harrod so distracted.” The war council had reconvened. Prince Dorian was reviewing the defenses of Celieria City, and more than once he had to call a dazed older Lord back to attention.
Rain glanced across the room at the elderly Great Lord Harrod, a former admiral of the king’s navy and lord of King’s Point. He was clearly suffering from the same shock as his fellow lords who had just discovered their impending father-hood. “I suppose learning your sixty-year-old wife is with child can do that to even the most focused of mortals.”
Cann’s jaw dropped. “Learning what?”
“Ah, that’s right. You came in after I did.” The shocked announcements and congratulations had already ended before Lord Barrial returned from the war council’s break. “Lady Harrod is pregnant.” Rain nodded at the assembled lords. “All their wives are—as is any woman who was at that dinner when Ellysetta spun her weave.” He gave Lord Barrial a rueful smile. “It seems my shei’tani’s weave was more potent than we realized.”
“All of the ladies are—” Lord Barrial’s voice broke off and his face turned to stone. “Will you excuse me?” Not waiting for an answer, he strode out of the council chamber.
As the door closed, Rain winced in sudden understanding. Barrial’s wife had died years ago, but he hadn’t escaped Ellysetta’s weave. Nor had Thea Trubol, the unmarried noble-woman who’d been partnered with him for dinner that night. And apparently Lady Thea either didn’t yet know or hadn’t yet broken the news of her condition to Lord Barrial.
Poor Cann. First his daughter Talisa had recognized Adrial as her truemate scarcely a month after her marriage to Lord Sebourne’s heir, and now this. His friendship with the Fey had not served his family kindly of late.