“If you don’t find news of this Grolin fellow here in town, you might try Brind Palwyn. He lives in the woods near Bracken, about thirty miles west of here, but he used to live just north, near the old quarry. His pa was a woodcutter. Your journeyman friend might have done some smithy work for Brind’s parents before they were murdered.”
Sian’s ears perked up. “Murdered?” Murder was an unusual event in a sleepy little hamlet like Norban.
“Ta. Both of them slain by brigands about twenty-three years past, their home burned to its foundations. Brind was just a lad at the time. Come to think of it, they died around the time you said your journeyman friend was in town.” Caution clouded the pubkeeper’s previously open gaze. “No one ever did find the men who killed them.”
“Pars was an honorable man, one who’d give his life defending a stranger,” Torel assured the man. Not even seven hundred years after Pars Grolin’s death would Torel let another impugn his friend’s honor. “The Fey do not grant their regard lightly, nor to the unworthy.”
The pubkeeper flushed. “My apologies. Suspicion is second nature in the north. If you want to speak with Brind, take the King’s Road north about two miles to Carthage Road, then head west for another thirty or so. His place is just off the river, by the falls. He’s suspicious of strangers, so tell him Wilmus sent you. And have a care if you’re out past sunset. These woods aren’t the safest after nightfall.”
“Our thanks,” Torel said. “The gods’ blessings on you.”
“What do you think, Torel?” Sian murmured as they left the inn. “Should we head west to visit this fellow?”
“Let’s finish here first. Another few bells won’t hurt.” Torel’s lips lifted. “Unless you’re afraid of the woods after nightfall.”
Sian gave Torel a shove. “Get scorched.” Then his expression grew serious. “I don’t like those memories we’ve been getting from folk about that pale-haired priest and the bonfire. Since when did the Church of Light start preaching that Fey serve the Dark Lord?”
“Good question. That’s certainly something we should include in our report to General vel Jelani tonight.”
Ellysetta’s lesson with Master Fellows passed far more quickly than she would have liked. All too soon, the clocktower rang, and Master Fellows prepared to take his leave. “Thank you for everything, Master Fellows,” Ellie said as she walked him to the door. “I hope I will do credit to your instruction tonight.”
“A sentiment we both share, believe me.” Master Fellows’s expression softened. “Just remember, don’t let anyone call you Mistress Baristani tonight. It’s Lady Ellysetta or My Lady Feyreisa. Anything less is a deliberate insult. And don’t smile; they’ll think you’re currying favor. Just be grave and gracious. Don’t fidget, don’t laugh, and for the Haven’s sake, don’t speak unless you’re directly engaged in conversation by another. The Fey have named you their queen. It is far better to remain silent and be thought aloof, than to speak and be proven a fool.”
He stepped across the threshold, then paused and turned back for one final word of advice. “And remember this, My Lady Feyreisa: being regal is a state of mind. Act like a queen, believe it in your heart, and a queen is what everyone will see.”
As twilight settled over the city, Den entered the Inn of the Blue Pony and headed for the stairs leading to Captain Batay’s room. He’d done all the Sorrelian had asked, and he was still no closer to getting Ellie Baristani. It was time to lay down the law to the good captain. Den Brodson was no man’s lackey. He wanted results for his efforts.
“He’s not there,” the innkeeper said as Den passed him.
Den paused and growled, “What did you say?”
“The Sorrelian. He said he was going out tonight and wouldn’t be back until late. He left this for you, though.” The innkeeper drew a sealed note from his pocket.
Den snatched the note and broke the seal, irritated that Batay had skipped out before he could catch him. Then grew more irritated by the command scrawled on the scrap of paper. A music box with paste jewels on the lid? What in the name of the Seven Hells did Batay need with something like that?
Den crumpled the note and stuffed it in his pocket. “When he gets in, tell him I was here. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
In the private carriage he’d hired after leaving the Inn of the Blue Pony, Kolis shed the hooded cloak he’d worn to cover the nondescript clothing of Goodman Black and whispered the unmaking spell to erase Batay’s blue crossed swords tattoo from his cheek. He folded the cloak and tied his hair back in the neat queue Goodman Black wore, then sat back as the carriage rolled through the cobbled streets towards a boarding house not far from the brothel district by the wharf.
The common room there was empty, save for the house mistress, who bobbed a respectful curtsey as Goodman Black walked past her up the stairs, then bobbed again a few chimes later when a mysterious beauty in a concealing hooded cloak entered, went up the same stairs, and knocked on the door the merchant had entered.
Kolis Manza turned as the door opened and smiled at Jiarine Montevero. “You look ravishing, my pet. Come in, and close the door behind you.”
Half a bell later, Jiarine departed. On the bed in the room she’d just quit, Kolis’s body lay vacant and chilling while his consciousness marveled at the feel of existing inside Jiarine’s young, lithe female form.
Ellie stared at her reflection in her bedroom mirror. In less than a bell, she would be presented to the highest-ranking nobles of Celieria, and with only two brief afternoons of Master Fellows’s instruction to teach her how to comport herself in their company, she was terrified she would make a mess of it.
“You look lovely, Ellysetta,” her mother said from the doorway.
Ellie turned and gave her mother a searching look. Mama had been unusually quiet since returning this afternoon. “Do you really think so?”
“Yes, kit, I do.”
Ellie turned back to her reflection. She did look better than she ever had before. Her first new ball gown had arrived, and it was gorgeous. Fashioned of a rich purple brocade that made her skin seem to glow, the dress hugged her torso, enhancing curves Ellie never knew she had, and the low, square neckline flattered her corseted bosom. Tight sleeves fit snugly over her upper arms, ending at her elbows in a fall of red silk-lined drapery that brushed the floor when her arms were lowered. The skirts fell in straight, flowing lines to her feet. The gown’s elegant simplicity and becoming cut made Ellie look regal rather than tall and gawky. Her hair, which had been dressed by a seasoned apprentice to the queen’s own coiffeuse, was piled high, woven in an elaborate display of plaits and curls. Against one hip, Belliard’s dagger hung in Kieran’s golden sheath.
She put a hand to her throat to touch the diamond necklace Rain had given her. “I’m so afraid they will laugh at me, the woodcarver’s daughter pretending to be a queen.”
“In the Lord of Light’s eyes, we’re all equally worthy.” Lauriana put her hands on Ellie’s shoulders and met her daughter’s eyes in the mirror. “Promise me you’ll keep to the Bright Path, Ellie. Promise me that even in the Fading Lands you’ll observe your devotions and guard your soul against evil.”
“Mama?” Ellie turned in surprise and took her mother’s hands. “What’s wrong?”
“Just promise me.”
“You know I will, Mama.” But Ellie bit her lip. Apart from today at the cathedral, she hadn’t said her devotions since the day Rain Tairen Soul entered her life. Was that what her dreams were telling her? That without constant vigilance, her soul would fall into darkness? “I’ll say my devotions right now, with you, if you like.”
“Would you?”
The surprise in her mother’s eyes hurt. Ellie blinked back tears. Had the last few days torn such a rift between them? “Of course I will.” She took her mother’s hand and knelt beside the bed. Devotions were the one thing Ellie had always been able to share with her mother no matter what, the times when she’d always felt her mother
’s love the strongest. She bent her head and closed her eyes and murmured the familiar words. “Holy Adelis, Lord of Light, shine your brightness upon me. Glorious Father, Sun of my Soul, grant me strength to stand against darkness. Adelis, Bright One, Lord of my Heart, bless me and keep me always in the Light.” She gave the fanning wave of the Lord of Light.
“Blessed be,” Lauriana murmured. When they rose to their feet, Lauriana had tears in her eyes, and she clasped her daughter to her in a tight hug. “I love you, kitling.”
“I love you, too, Mama. You’re my beacon.”
Mama stepped back, wiping her eyes with the heels of her palms. “Go on, then,” she said gruffly. “I won’t follow you down. I wouldn’t want to embarrass myself by turning watering pot in front of the Fey.”
Rain was waiting when Ellysetta descended the stairs. He was once again dressed in magnificent black, red, and purple, with the chain of large gold disks and Tairen’s Eye crystals around his neck. The six-pointed crown rested on his brow, and he looked imposing and kingly.
He was scowling.
The knot in Ellie’s stomach tightened.
His gaze raked over her in one critical sweep. “You won’t need that necklace tonight. Bel, bring her jewels.”
Ellie lowered her eyes to hide a sudden flare of hurt and reached behind her head to undo the clasp of her necklace. What had she expected? That he would be dazzled just because she was wearing a gorgeous dress and had done her hair?
Bel approached, carrying a silk-covered box. «You are lovely, Ellysetta Baristani.»
She gave him a tremulous smile.
Beside her, Rain gave a quiet grunt, as if someone had just hit him. His scowl deepened, and he flashed a dark look at Bel. Then he returned his attention to Ellie, and warm approval touched her senses, mingled with faint apology. “You bring pride to this Fey, Ellysetta.”
She nodded, not looking at him.
She heard him draw a breath as if he were about to speak, heard him let it back out again on a sigh. “Open the box, Bel,” he said.
Bel drew back the lid of the silk-covered box, and Ellysetta caught her breath in awe. Against the rich velvet lining gleamed a stunning golden tiara set with pearls and precious jewels and three large, shimmering Tairen’s Eye crystals. Two equally stunning crystals adorned a pair of magnificent matching golden bracelets.
“These jewels are a gift for tonight only,” Rain said. “The Tairen’s Eye crystals are the sorreisu kiyr, the Soul Quest crystals, of your quintet. They requested the honor of having you wear them as we present you to Celieria as our queen.”
Ellysetta glanced around the room, meeting the shining eyes of each warrior in her quintet. “The honor is mine. Thank you all.”
She stood still as Rain settled the tiara in place and clasped the bracelets on her wrists. Her skin tingled where the jewels touched her flesh, as if the sorreisu kiyr hummed with warm, living energy. And Rain’s emotions seemed clearer, sharper. She could feel his coiled tension and the sparks of anger flashing through his veins.
“Rain?” She touched his hand.
“We should go.”
“Just a moment.” Sol stepped forward. “I need to kiss this pretty young woman before she leaves.” Warm, loving arms wrapped around her. The familiar scent of fresh wood shavings and pipe smoke filled her nostrils. “I love you, Ellie-girl,” Sol whispered.
Fresh tears sprang to Ellie’s eyes. She blinked them back before anyone saw them and returned her father’s hug. “I love you, too, Papa.”
“Enjoy yourself tonight.”
“I will,” she lied.
A royal carriage was waiting outside. The bewigged footman standing attendance beside the carriage door helped Ellie into the vehicle. She took her seat on the blue velvet cushions, folded her hands in her lap, and stared out the far window at the throng of people surrounding her family’s home. A strange, disturbing sense of darkness brushed her mind, and the hair at the back of her neck rose. Troubled, she scanned the crowd. Den Brodson’s face stared back at her from a distance, his eyes filled with malevolence and thwarted desire.
Black leather moved at the corner of her eye, and Ellie turned her head to watch Rain take his seat opposite her. When she glanced back out the window, Den was gone.
“Ellysetta?” She felt Rain’s concern even before she heard it in his voice. “Something frightens you?” The carriage lurched forward and began to roll through the parting crowds.
“No, I’m fine.” Den was no threat to her or her family. The Fey had seen to that.
Rain’s lips tightened in a faint grimace. “I did not mean to hurt your feelings a moment ago. Bel tells me I am an insensitive rultshart for not telling you how lovely you look.”
“It’s all right.”
“Nei. It is not.” His hands fisted, then opened with obvious effort and pressed flat against his thighs. “I do not wish to attend this dinner. I do not wish to take you there. Not”—he added quickly, holding up a hand to forestall any misunderstanding—“because I am unhappy to take you, but because I do not want to expose you to their darkness. Or my anger.”
“Because of what happened yesterday?”
“In part, I suppose. But even without the current unpleasantness, I would feel the same. The last Celierian dinner I attended ended badly, and I cannot forget the memory of it.”
Ellie suddenly understood Rain’s scowl, his inattentiveness, and the tense anger coiled inside him. The last Celierian dinner Rain Tairen Soul had attended had taken place a thousand years ago and ended in the assassination of Marikah vol Serranis and her husband King Dorian I of Celieria. That dinner provided the spark that Gaelen vel Serranis, Marikah’s twin brother, fanned into the flames that became the Mage Wars.
“I’d forgotten you were there,” she admitted.
“I expect many have forgotten.”
“I imagine it was horrible.” Ellie heard the words leave her mouth and could have groaned. Of course, it had been horrible. It was a bloody, evil night that had led to an even bloodier and more evil war. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “You don’t have to talk about it.”
“Nei, it’s all right. It was a very long time ago. The wound is no longer fresh.”
“But it still has the power to hurt.”
He smiled a little. “Your heart is kind, shei’tani, to worry over such an ancient wound.” Then his smile faded. “Marikah died. Gaelen, her twin brother, gave himself to the Wilding Rage to avenge her and plunged us into war. Millions died. These things I cannot change, and I no longer weep for might-have-beens. It’s simply that my memories remind me of what can happen at such seemingly innocuous events.”
She leaned across the carriage and reached out to take his hands in hers. She meant the gesture to be comforting, friendly. Loving, too, but in a gentle way. Perhaps it was his unsettled emotions. Perhaps it was her own unsettled emotions. Perhaps it was just the shei’tanitsa hunger rising in both of them. Whatever the reason, the moment she touched him, sudden desire roared up inside her, a gout of invisible flame leaping from her body to his.
Ellie’s field of vision narrowed until she saw nothing but his eyes, searing amethyst, piercing her senses, her consciousness, then deeper. She felt her soul stir in response. A restless disquiet, a yearning…for something more than physical, something more than emotional. Her breath rasped down her dry throat on a ragged inward moan.
He gave a low, deep-chested growl, the warning purr of a stalking tairen, and invisible hands, hot and hard, cupped her through her dress. Invisible lips, firm and silky, tracked a burning path down her neck.
Her pulse thundered in her ears. Her eyes closed on a swell of unbearable pleasure. Her head tipped back, and real hands reached out to grasp her waist and bring her hard against his chest. Real lips devoured the too sensitive skin of her neck, dragging up, teeth grazing the curve of her jaw. His mouth claimed hers in a hot, demanding, erotic kiss.
In her mind’s eye, she saw the tairen. Magnificen
t, sleek, as black as death itself. Its eyes were burning lavender fire, its fangs white, sharp, deadly, bared in a snarl of feral wildness that had slipped its leash. It leapt towards her, massive wings unfurled, gigantic paws outstretched. So beautiful. So wild. So terrifying. White, sharp, curving claws dug into her flesh, holding her fast. The tairen screamed with hunger and dragged her close.
With a small choked cry, she tore her lips from Rain’s and pushed against his shoulders.
Rain’s empty hands curled slowly into fists that shook with visible effort as he once more caged the wildness within him. He groaned, closed his eyes, and banged the back of his head against the coach wall.
“Sieks’ta,” he apologized, his eyes still closed. There was a fine sheen of perspiration on his face, the first she’d ever seen, a testament to the force he was extending to keep himself in check. “When you reach out to me, I lose all reason. The tairen is hungry for its mate. As, gods help me, am I.”
“It was my fault,” she told him, shivering as she tried to recover her composure and still her racing heartbeat. “I started it.”
“Aiyah, you did. Which gives me hope at least.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “But I should know by now that I must go slowly with you. Your ways are not ours, and you are still so young. I will do better the next time, Ellysetta. I do not wish to frighten you.”
“It’s all right.” She didn’t deny that he had frightened her. She knew he had felt it.
“Nei.” He gave a slight, hoarse laugh. “When you accept the bond, it will be all right.” His eyes opened, pinned her with glowing intensity. “Until then, it is quite the opposite.”