After the first dozen or so introductions, Rain began sending little private communications to her on weaves of Spirit, things like «You didn’t like Lord Braegis at all, did you, shei’tani? Can you tell me why?» or «You seemed to like Lady Clovis. Perhaps we should arrange for you and Marissya to meet her for tea.» His Spirit voice was calm, reassuring, and even occasionally wicked: «Lady Zillina had best not lean over tonight or those breasts might just leap for freedom.» The intimacy of the conversation—private words shared only between the two of them—made the ballroom seem less crowded and the nobles a bit less terrifying. Occasionally Rain would reach over to stroke the hand she kept on his wrist, lift the corner of his mouth in the faintest of smiles, and whisper in her mind, «You’re doing fine, shei’tani. You bring pride to this Fey.»
One of the few genuinely friendly faces in the crowd was a Fey-eyed border lord named Teleos from the west, whom Rain greeted with a warmth he’d not shown any other Celierian. Even without Lord Corrias’s whispered summation, Ellie knew who Lord Devron Teleos was. His family’s ancestral estates lay at the foot of the southernmost Feyl mountains, guarding the Garreval, gateway to the Fading Lands. On that land, fifty miles north of the Garreval, the battle of Eadmond’s Field had been waged, and Sariel had died.
“Lady Ellysetta.” Teleos bowed to her. “The gods have shone their grace on the Tairen Soul indeed. You make me envy him his good fortune.”
Ellysetta blushed at the generous compliment. Just as she’d sensed the false welcome in the other lords, she sensed the truth in Teleos. Like the Fey, he looked at her and saw beauty. How amazing. “You are too kind, Lord Teleos,” she replied, “but in truth, I received the greater grace. What girl has not dreamed of Rain Tairen Soul and Fey devotion?”
“And all this time, I believed the thought of me would send them fleeing in fear,” Rain quipped with a faint smile. In a more serious tone, he told Teleos, “My thanks for your courage in Council yesterday. It is good to know that common sense still prevails in some parts of Celieria.”
“I should have spoken sooner.” Teleos’s green eyes held genuine regret. “Had I known what was done to Ser vel Jelani, I would have, but I never suspected such animus.”
“Dax tells me you are the descendant of an old friend of mine, Shanis Teleos,” Rain said.
“My great-grandfather’s great-grandfather,” the border lord confirmed.
“He was there that day at Eadmond’s Field. I am glad to know he survived it. He was a great warrior, and a true friend.”
“According to the family history I learned as a boy, he saw an opportunity to flank the Merellians and took a force of his best men to circle round from the north. He wasn’t on the field when you…when the Rage took you.”
Rain nodded somberly; then a ghost of a smile lightened his eyes. “He always could read a battlefield…and had the gods’ own luck. We were chadins together in our youth at the Warrior’s Academy in Dharsa. Then I found my wings, and he went south to Tehlas, to continue his training under the tutelage of his uncle and namesake, Shannisorran v’En Celay.”
That was a name Ellie had read in numerous tomes of Fey history and poetry. Shannisorran v’En Celay, Lord Death, one of the greatest, deadliest Fey warriors ever to have walked the earth, as infamous in battle as Rain was for the scorching of the world and Gaelen vel Serranis for sparking the Mage Wars.
“I did not see your folk there by the Garreval when we passed through the Mists,” Rain said. “Shanis always kept the custom, but I suppose things have changed.”
Lord Teleos smiled at the probe. “The land remains in our family, but we no longer live there. After the Wars, the king granted Shanis a northern estate bordering Eld and the Feyls. We now guard Orest and Kiyera’s Veil.”
Rain nodded. “So Dax told me. It is a handsome land…and a dangerous one. The Eld I knew always coveted that stretch of the river.” Orest, the City of Mist, lay at the foot of the Feyls, wreathed in the mists and rainbows of numerous waterfalls that fed the mighty Heras River. About a mile northwest of the city in the river gorge, Kiyera’s Veil was a legendary gauntlet of towering waterfalls pouring into the Heras from opposite mountains, filling the gorge with water and mist and blocking a pass rumored to lead into the Fading Lands.
“And still do.” The border lord’s expression became grim. “I lose a dozen villagers every year to Eld raids—not murdered, just gone—but the attacks seem to be lessening of late.”
“You’re the first I’ve heard to blame the Eld and not dahl’reisen.”
Teleos grimaced. “Yes, well, Sebourne and his pack don’t think a fly dies on the borders these days except by dahl’reisen hand, but the raids on my land just don’t have the feel of dahl’reisen. I can’t really explain why.”
“Do not discount your intuition, Lord Teleos. You’re Fey enough to perceive things beyond mortal senses. The Eld I knew always longed to drive a wedge between Celierians and Fey. Murdering Celierians and blaming the Fey—or the dahl’reisen—is just the sort of deception they would employ.” From the corner of his eye, Rain saw Lord Corrias signal. “It has been a pleasure meeting you, Lord Teleos. I hope we have the chance to speak again.”
Teleos bowed graciously. “The pleasure is mine, My Lord Feyreisen. It would be my honor to host a dinner for you before you return to the Fading Lands. Though I’m unlikely to instill trust in those who doubt the Fey”—his Fey eyes gleamed with wry humor—“I know many lords who remain more open-minded about certain things than Sebourne.”
Rain inclined his head. “A most generous offer, my lord. It would be our honor to attend.” He offered an arm clasp and a traditional Fey warrior’s greeting which roughly translated to “Sharp blade, sure aim, swift strike.”
Teleos returned the greeting in perfectly accented Feyan and added on the common Spirit path, «You can count on my support, My Lord Feyreisen. Both my voice in Council and my sword, if you need it. These are unsettling times, but I fear much worse is yet to come.»
«Beylah vo, young blade brother,» Rain answered. «And for a son of Shanis’s line who guards the Veil, the doors of the Warrior’s Academy in Dharsa are always open. When you wish it, I will send a warrior to guide you through the Mists.»
Lord Teleos’s eyes widened. «You honor me.»
«That was very kind of you,» Ellysetta sent as they walked away.
«Not entirely unselfish,» Rain admitted. «Any man who guards the Veil should be Fey-trained in weapons and war. You liked him?»
«Very much. More than anyone we’ve met so far.»
«Good. I liked him, too.»
In sharp contrast to Lord Teleos, Lord Morvel was a towering iceberg of a man with thick, unpowdered white hair, a hawklike nose, large nostrils, and piercing blue eyes. After a brief, chilly greeting, those eyes speared Ellie, delved ruthlessly into her very soul, then withdrew with an indecipherable look that left her wondering if he despised her or simply found her unworthy of even that much of his great regard. She was in good company. Lord Morvel’s dissecting gaze fell upon Rain and withdrew with the same results.
“Let me be frank,” Lord Morvel said bluntly. “I’m not offering marriage to any of my noble sons or grandsons. But I do have a son, duAlbuth, whose mother was my armorer’s daughter. I’ve had him trained in warfare, and he currently serves in my infantry. Marriage to a woodcarver’s daughter would not insult his lineage, given his already-common stock. I would, of course, expect a dowry at least as generous as what you gave the butcher, so he could purchase a lower-gentry title and a bit of land and still have enough to ensure advantageous marriages for his own children.”
“I see.” To his credit, Rain did not pull steel. “And what might the Fey receive in return—besides the gracious offer of blood-ties to the House of Morvel and an opportunity for the Feyreisa’s sisters to ascend beyond their lowly roots?”
If Morvel noted his sarcasm, he showed no sign of it. “The king shared your concerns about the Eld with the Twen
ty. I have eight castles on the Elden March between Eastmere and Norwal, each capable of garrisoning between one and two thousand men. If it’s men on the Marches you want, I can help…depending on the outcome of our negotiations, of course.”
“Of course.” Rain smiled without a hint of warmth reaching his eyes and bowed his head. “I look forward to further discussions. Dax and I will call on you tomorrow.”
«Never,» Ellysetta bit out as she and Rain shook off that wintry encounter and moved on to greet the next group of nobles. «Never will either of my sisters wed into that man’s family. And I don’t care if the entire world depends on it.»
«Las, shei’tani. An offer is not a betrothal. Besides, you heard him say everything was negotiable. Woodcarver’s blood may insult him, but he seems rather fond of Fey gold—and you did notice, I hope, that I let his insults pass without challenge.»
«I expected them to insult me, not Lillis and Lorelle,» she admitted, then looked up sheepishly. «I was ready to go for his throat myself.»
Rain’s teeth bared in a predator’s smile. «Release me from my oath, and I will make him scream for forgiveness.» When she didn’t, he sighed with mock disappointment. «More’s the pity. So, aside from his insulting arrogance, what did you think of him? Does he strike you as a man of honor? Is he someone a Fey can trust, once he gives his word?»
She stopped in her tracks and gaped at him. “How should I know?” Surprise made her blurt it aloud. “I’m no shei’dalin to read the truth in a man’s soul.”
Rain wove a quick web of magic to catch her words and keep them from traveling. «Silently, Ellysetta. Corrias is recording every word for his report to Dorian and the queen. And as for reading a man’s soul, aiyah, you can. You’ve been doing a shei’dalin’s service all evening.»
«What?» Her eyes went wide with shock, then narrowed as her brows drew together. «Is that why you’ve been asking for my opinions all night? Not to put me at ease, but to use me? Or rather, to get me to use the magic you claim I possess?»
«You do possess magic, Ellysetta. Denying it won’t change that. And nei, I was not using you. If anything, I was testing you. Marissya has already read most of the nobles at this gathering. You read every one of them exactly as she did. Exactly, Ellysetta. Do you honestly believe it’s pure coincidence that your intuition aligns perfectly with the reading of our most powerful shei’dalin?»
Her anger faltered, shaken by the possibility he was telling the truth. She’d always had a sense about people. Her father often asked for her opinion before making a purchase from a vendor he didn’t know. “You have an eye for an honest man, Ellie-girl,” he’d always praised, and she’d never thought more of it than that. Now Rain claimed her “eye for an honest man” was magic. Shei’dalin magic.
“My Lord Feyreisen?” Lord Corrias turned back to them. “Is there a problem?”
Rain looked down at Ellie, his eyes steady, his face an impassive mask.
She took a breath and gathered her composure. “No, my lord. No problem.” She put her hand back on Rain’s wrist, and his emotions surged up her arm at the first touch: determination, pride, a hint of remorse, but not much. She had a gift, one he was determined she would accept and learn to use. As frightening as that seemed, she’d already been using some measure of that gift all her life. Did it really matter whether she called it magic or an eye for an honest man? Her shoulders squared. Her chin lifted. «Lord Morvel will honor his contracts to the word, but not one letter more.»
A quick, surprised glance brushed her cheek, then warm approval flowed across her senses. The arm beneath her fingers lost a bit of its tension. «Beylah vo, Ellysetta.»
She gave a small nod, but kept her eyes fixed forward and forced a pleasant expression as Lord Corrias introduced yet another noble couple. “Lord Durbin, Lady Durbin. It is a pleasure to meet you both.”
When they met Lord Cannevar Barrial, Rain could tell that Ellysetta liked him more than anyone else save Teleos. So did he. The border lord had a sturdy, no-nonsense look about him. His clothes were impeccably fine, but tailored for practicality with no long swags or bulk of fabric to hinder him should a ballroom unexpectedly turn into a battlefield. He wore two long, jeweled daggers at his waist—one on each side—and Rain would be surprised if both weren’t razor sharp and made to fit in Lord Barrial’s hand with comfortable ease.
The most intriguing thing about Lord Barrial, however, was the heavy gold chain draped around his throat—or rather, the large, cabochon Tairen’s Eye crystal hanging from it, surrounded by a sunburst of diamonds in a graduated rainbow of shades. How had Cannevar Barrial, a Celierian border lord, come to possess a Fey warrior’s sorreisu’kiyr?
“Have you or a member of your family performed some special service to the Fey, Lord Barrial?” Rain asked when the introductions were complete. He gestured to the jewel around Barrial’s throat. “A Tairen’s Eye that size doesn’t usually find its way out of Fey hands.”
“It’s been in my family for centuries.” The border lord’s brow lifted. “Who knows? Perhaps there is a Fey ancestor somewhere far back in the Barrial family tree.”
“Perhaps there is,” Rain acknowledged seriously. “Guard it well, Lord Barrial. There are those who would kill for such a prize.”
Lord Barrial gave a smile that changed him instantly from wealthy courtier to dangerous predator. “The warning is appreciated, My Lord Feyreisen, but unnecessary. I am well able to defend what belongs to me. It’s something of a requirement for surviving on the borders.”
Rain liked the man all the more. “Dax tells me you have several children.”
“I do. Four sons and one lovely daughter who recently wed the heir of my neighbor Lord Sebourne, whom you met yesterday.”
“Then I am doubly in your debt for your words in Council yesterday and your willingness to entertain a close connection with the Fey. I hope your support did not cause a breach between you and your daughter’s bond-family.”
Lord Barrial smiled. “Sebourne and I share long years between us. It would take more than a simple disagreement in Council to set us at each other’s throats.” The smile faded, and seriousness took its place. “He’s not a bad sort. Pompous, yes, but the zealous dislike of dahl’reisen is a recent development. Too many of the attacks have been focused on his lands, and he’s begun seeing enemies in every shadow. That’s one reason I agreed to the king’s request. My daughter lives on Sebourne land now—or will once she and Colum return from their bridal voyage. For her sake, I’ll do whatever I can to help put an end to those attacks.”
“Was your daughter betrothed at a young age, Lord Barrial?” Ellysetta interrupted.
“Why do you ask?”
Rain pressed his fingers against her waist. «Shei’tani, leave it. I have said I will speak with him.»
Ellie firmed her jaw and blurted, “I don’t approve of betrothing young children. They should have a choice of whom they wed. A chance to find love.”
The border lord drew back in surprise and Rain cast her a reproving glance. Blood rushed to her cheeks, but she set her face in a mulish expression and held Lord Barrial’s gaze.
Rain sighed. «You must learn to trust me, Ellysetta.»
Looking from Rain to Ellie, Lord Barrial said quietly, “I would never willingly do anything to cause my children unhappiness. Nor would I propose a union that was unwelcome.”
“The Feyreisa is very protective of her sisters’ happiness,” Rain told him. “And she was recently betrothed to a man not of her choosing. She has asked that no betrothal offers be made to her parents at this time.”
“Ah.” Understanding dawned. Lord Barrial nodded to Ellysetta. “I heard of your betrothal, and your day in court. On the borders, happiness is too fleeting to waste a moment of it trapped in a cold marriage. Talisa wed the day of her twenty-fifth birthday, by her own choosing, because she had never found another who suited her better than Colum diSebourne. It is not the love match I wanted for her, but they are
friends.” The border lord bowed to Rain. “My offer was merely that—an offer. Any bond between us is negotiable.”
Rain returned the bow with a nod, and Lord Barrial moved away. When he was gone, Rain turned to Ellie and shook his head. «You may think you are a coward, shei’tani, but you are mistaken. No other woman in this room, with the possible exception of Annoura or Marissya, would have challenged a man of Lord Barrial’s standing as you just did.» He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss upon it. «When it comes to those you love, Ellysetta, you are fierce as any tairen.»
Across the room, Annoura watched the Tairen Soul kiss his peasant-bride’s hand and escort her around the palace ballroom as if she were the Queen of Queens.
Already, many of Celieria’s best had begun softening towards her, thanks to Dorian’s infuriating surprise announcement. Lords who might have remained hostile to a foreign king and his unacceptable bride would not risk insulting one of the Great Houses. Who would have guessed Dorian could ever arrange such a coup, let alone arrange it so swiftly? And he’d not once said a word to her about it!
Furious, Annoura snatched a glass of pinalle from a passing waiter and took a long, satisfying sip of the chilled alcohol. Heady warmth followed the sweet, cool flavors of the wine, and she regarded Dorian’s two prize bulls over the rim of her wineglass.
Barrial’s participation in this farce didn’t surprise her much. He fancied himself an everyman’s lord: the sort who would happily roll back his sleeves and toil in the dirt alongside his men. He’d toss out the offer just to prove his willingness to accept a person on merit rather than position. As if that were somehow an asset. She hadn’t forgotten how quickly he’d jumped to the Fey’s defense in Council yesterday. Only Teleos and Dorian were bigger Fey-lovers.
But Morvel…the way he bragged on the purity of his noble House, you’d think each thimbleful of seed that spewed from his loins was worth a fifty-weight in gold. How in the name of all the gods had Dorian convinced Albuthnas Morvel even to consider merging his highly pedigreed bloodlines with a woodcarver’s whelp?