Lord of the Fading Lands (The Tairen Soul Book 1)

The palace was lit like a garden lantern, blazing against the Celierian night sky. The carriage slowly made its way up the crowded carriage path towards the massive palace steps and the waiting footmen, dazzling in their blue-and-gold livery and silvery-white powdered hair.

Ellie stared out the window, up the wide expanse of stairs to the brightly lit interior of the palace beckoning from the opened doors at the top of the stairs. How many young Celierian girls had dreamed of a moment like this? She had dreamed it countless times, and yet now that the dream had become reality, she couldn’t stop wishing she were safe back at home, spending another dull night wrapped in the security of the familiar. Even while another part of her was eager to climb those stairs and taste the wonders of the dream.

‘What are you thinking?’ Rain was watching her with an intent expression.

‘That I’m an awful lot like Ashleanne the hearth-minder,’ she replied with a self-deprecating smile. ‘And you’re the Fey giftfather and the handsome prince all rolled into one.”

‘Then perhaps that is to your advantage. The weave doesn’t have to unravel at midnight if you don’t wish it.”

‘I’m not so sure I don’t want it to unravel right now. I’m feeling cowardly.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled. ‘You are not the first to dread a royal dinner. Even without my dislike of the nobles and the memories of what happened here before, I admit I have never enjoyed these affairs. Especially in Celieria. Your people use far too many forks.”

She laughed, grateful to him for trying to put her at ease even when he himself was not.

The carriage pulled to a stop before the blue-carpeted stairs. Protective shields sprang up around them as they descended from the carriage and remained in place as they climbed the palace steps, not disappearing until they passed through the palace doors.

A servant appeared before them. His livery, the same rich Celierian blue as all the other servants wore, was much more elaborately decorated with gold braid. His hair was gold- powdered and tied at his nape with a Celierian blue bow. He bowed deeply to Rain. ‘Your Majesty.’ He hesitated briefly, then bowed again just as deeply to Ellie. ‘My Lady. If you will both follow me, please? I will escort you to the ballroom, where the guests are gathering before dinner.”

The corridors were brilliant with light and peopled with servants and courtiers dressed in dazzling displays of gilded cloth, sparkling jewels, and piles of glittering powdered hair. The extreme radiance of wealth was stunning to a girl so used to sensible moderation, and Ellie found herself holding her breath and trying desperately not to look like a goggle- eyed fool while still attempting to drink in every sight, every sound.

When they entered the upper level of the already crowded ballroom and stood at the top of the curving staircase awaiting their introduction, Ellie became instantly and self- consciously aware of how her deep purple and Rain’s black

leathers stood out like dark beacons in a sea of gilded pastels. As they stepped onto the landing, every eye in the room below focused on them.

She shrank back against Rain.

Peace, Ellysetta. There is nothing to fear.»

She tried to stiffen her spine, tried even harder not to let her fear show on her face. Her free hand fell to the Fey’cha at her waist, fingers closing around the black handle with desperate need, but Bel’s dagger did not offer her the comfort it usually did. Perhaps because she knew that if she made a fool of herself tonight, it would reflect badly on Rain and the Fey.

The servant who had led them to the ballroom whispered their names to another servant, this one dressed in pure silver. The silver-clad man announced in ringing tones, ‘His esteemed majesty, Rainier vel’En Daris Feyreisen, the Tairen Soul, King of the Fading Lands, Defender of the Fey, and Lady Ellysetta Baristani Feyreisa, truemate of the Tairen Soul, Queen of the Fading Lands.”

Ellie had an hysterical urge to laugh at the titles attached to her name. Oh, gods, this was all a mistake. Who did Rain think he was fooling? She was plain Ellie Baristani, woodcarver’s daughter, not a queen. And judging by the haughty, sneering looks on the faces of the nobles below, every one of them was thinking the same thing. How could Rain hope to win their respect and convince them to stand firm against the Eld when he confronted them with a peasant on his arm? Even the servants of the aristocracy looked down their noses at her when they visited her father’s shop at their masters’ bidding.

Bel and Kieran preceded them down the stairs. Kiel, Adrial, and Rowan followed them. Ellie’s knees trembled as she and Rain descended the stairs into the ballroom. She was aware of King Dorian and Queen Annoura sitting in gold and silver radiance on their thrones at the far end of the room, watching her with unblinking eyes. She looked out over the sea of faces and sensed the courtiers’ swelling outrage and stiffening pride. They resented having a peasant’s daughter shoved down their noble, aristocratic throats. She was beneath them. She didn’t belong here. She sensed anger, rapidly escalating, and thought it came from the nobles.

When they reached the bottom stair, Bel turned his head to give her a warning look. Peace, Ellysetta. Your emotions wake the tairen.

Her gaze flew to Rain’s unsmiling, stone-carved face. His eyes were on fire with power. His mouth was grim. The anger she felt was his, and he was struggling hard to contain it.

‘Rain,’ she whispered. ‘I’m sorry.”

«Apologize for nothing. Not to me, and especially not to these dark-souled mortals. You are the Feyreisa.»

She winced at the harsh bite in his Spirit voice.

‘My Lord Feyreisen.’ A glittering man in a blue-and-silver coat dripping lace and jewels stepped forth from the throng. His hair was silver-powdered, his blue eyes cool above a pleasant smile. Though Ellie had never met the man, his face was famous throughout Celieria. Lord Corrias, Celieria’s prime minister, bowed very deeply to Rain.

‘Mistress Baristani.’ Lord Corrias bowed to her as well, more deeply than a woodcarver’s daughter had a right to expect, but less than a quarter the depth of the bow he had given the Tairen Soul. Not that it mattered to Ellie. She was too busy struggling with the nervous fear that clogged her throat to care about the implications of a bow.

It mattered to Rain.

‘She is the Feyreisa.’ Rain’s voice was an iced shard of sound, the barest whisper, and yet it sliced across the rising murmurs of the onlooking crowd with chilling ease. ‘You insult her at your gravest peril.”

The prime minister blanched and immediately fell into a bow even deeper than the one he had offered Rain. ‘My Lady Feyreisa, please accept my apologies. No insult was intended.’

‘Peace, Lord Corrias. No insult is taken.’ Marissya v’En Solande’s calm voice broke the tense silence. Deeply veiled and exquisitely gowned in unrelieved scarlet, the shei’dalin descended the stairs on the arm of her truemate. Tairen’s Eye crystals flashed at her throat and wrists, and dozens more hung about her hips on golden chains. ‘Lady Ellysetta is the first Feyreisa in over two thousand years, and the only one ever to be truemated to our King. One small lapse in protocol can be forgiven.”

As Lord Corrias rose, Marissya’s voice sounded in Ellie’s head. ‘Las, little sister. Rain will not be able to keep his promise if you cannot control your fears.’ Then, hesitantly, ^«I can help calm you, if you will permit me.”

Ellie shook her head. She wanted no shei’dalin mind control worked on her, even if it was to make her feel better. The very thought of it made her stomach clench.

«Don’t be frightened. I will do nothing without your permission. You must calm yourself so Rain can control his temper.»

Ellie took a deep breath and tried to do as Marissya asked, but she was too conscious of the many eyes on her. Whenever Ellie drew too much attention, she could almost feel people looking at her, as if their sharp gazes were fingers pinching and poking at her. It was an unpleasant, unsettling sensation, and trying to combat it always gave her a sick headache. Tonight, the sensation was stronger than ever before.

«Peace, shei’tani.”

‘I’m trying,’ she muttered. ‘Can we just get this over with?”

«Of course.» Even though Rain’s eyes still glowed fiercely, his mental voice was warm and gentle and almost as soothing as the shei’dalin’s.

‘Lord Corrias.’ None of the warmth Ellie felt from Rain was apparent in his voice as he turned his attention back to the prime minister. ‘Please escort us to the king and queen so that we may pay our respects. Then you may introduce us to your other guests.”

The prime minister gave another deep bow. ‘Of course, My Lord Feyreisen,’ he replied, with only the faintest hint of stiffness in his voice. ‘It will be my honor.’

When they reached the dais at the end of the room, Rain bowed his head in greeting to King Dorian and Queen Annoura. He saw Ellie begin to sink into a deep curtsey and formed a rapid weave of Air to keep her upright.

«Nei, Ellysetta, » he advised. «You are our queen. Do not humble yourself before the throne of another. It is acceptable merely to bow your head to them to acknowledge their sovereignty in their own land.”

Blushing, she did as he instructed.

Garbed completely in gold, with huge yellow diamonds draped around his throat, sparkling on his fingers, and winking from every fold of his gold-cloth doublet, King Dorian was the sun. His dark hair had been pomaded, curled, and powdered with gold dust. A bright Celierian blue sash was angled across his chest and fastened at his hip by a large gold disk stamped with Celieria’s royal seal. His feet, clad in gold shoes with stacked heels and yellow-diamond-encrusted buckles, were crossed comfortably before him, and his strong, sun-bronzed hands curled with familiar casualness on the arms of his massive throne.

Beside him, shining in cool silver and diamond-white radiance, Queen Annoura was the moon, though in truth she outsparkled her husband. Her hair was powdered silver, her eyebrows gilded to match. Brilliant blue-white diamonds set in shining platinum cascaded like a waterfall down her slender throat and across the deep expanse of skin exposed by the low heart-shaped décolletage of her gown. One large egg- shaped diamond trembled between her breasts. More diamonds winked at her ears, on her fingers, around her wrists, from the silver fabric and lace of her gown. Even the tips of her silver-polished nails gleamed with small diamonds.

The overdone brilliance of the king and queen offended Rain’s Fey senses. In the Fading Lands, elegance and beauty were found in simplicity rather than ostentation. Ellysetta’s unadorned gown and the restrained dazzle of her Tairen’s Eye jewelry were far more appealing to him.

The queen’s sharp gaze roved over Ellysetta. Her lips tightened as she examined the bracelets and tiara, and Rain knew Bel and the others had been right in offering their sorreisu kiyr. Annoura had no doubt hoped the Fey would forget the Celierians’ custom of declaring social rank by the quantity and value of the jewels they wore. Instead, each one of Ellysetta’s crystals surpassed the combined worth of all Annoura and Dorian’s diamonds.

Finished with her perusal, Annoura arched a mocking silvered brow that set Rain’s teeth on edge. His expression, however, remained stone blank. He would rather dance naked before the entire court than give Celieria’s queen the satisfaction of knowing she could annoy him.

‘My dear,’ the queen purred to Ellysetta, ‘you must meet the ladies of our Great Houses. Jiarine, Lady Montevero, will introduce you.”

Annoura waved and a sapphire-bedecked young woman came eagerly to the queen’s side. Her large, silver-lidded eyes swept over Ellysetta, and a too-sweet smile curved her pretty lips. Rain didn’t like the look in her eyes or the hint of darkness that clung to her neatly packaged form. She reminded him too much of the Kelissande creature who took such pleasure in wounding his shei’tani’s heart.

‘That is unnecessary,’ Rain interrupted, flashing a cold look at Lady Jiarine. ‘Lord Corrias has graciously offered to introduce us”

The silver lace fan in Annoura’s hand snapped open and pumped drafts of air onto the queen’s flushed cheeks. ‘How kind of him”

Now Rain permitted the barest hint of a smile to reach his eyes. ‘Indeed.”

«Must you go out of your way to annoy her?» Marissya asked in an aggrieved tone.

«Only when she begs to be annoyed.» The queen might enjoy playing her game of Trumps, but her attempt to use Ellysetta as a pawn would stop tonight. If Annoura persisted, she would soon discover that a Celierian queen was no match for a Fey Tairen Soul.

‘Corrias is going to introduce you?’ Dorian gave a hearty smile, either ignoring or oblivious to his wife’s stifled pout. ‘You couldn’t ask for a better man to steer you through this court’s shark-infested waters.”

‘Then we shall be well served.’ Rain gave a shallow bow.

As Rain turned to leave, the king’s voice stopped him. ‘Be sure he introduces you to Lords Morvel and Barrial. Both have indicated their interest in pursuing closer ties to the Fey. I understand the Feyreisa’s sisters will soon be of marriageable age.’ Ellie gasped in surprise, as did the courtiers close enough to hear the king’s comment. A rapid murmuring rose up around them. ‘A happy way to strengthen the bond between our two countries, wouldn’t you say?”

«Border lords,» Dax supplied before Rain even asked the question. «Barrial was the one who stood up with Teleos yesterday. He holds the land along the Elden border from Carthage to Kreppes. Morvel controls everything from the Estemere seaport to Norwal.”

Dorian was offering nearly a sixth of the Elden border.

Rain eyed Dorian with new appreciation. The king had been very busy—and much more effective in dealing with his nobles than Rain had been. ‘Indeed. Such consideration is a great honor to the Baristani family and the Fey.”

‘Excellent. My queen and I hope you and your Feyreisa will honor us with your presence at Prince Dorian and Lady Nadela’s betrothal ball.’ The ball would initiate a week of city-wide celebrations leading up to the betrothal ceremony itself.

‘We will be there, and we thank you for the honor of the invitation.’ Rain bowed.

‘Your attendance will bring us joy.’ Dorian smiled and laid his hand over his wife’s. Her face was a frozen mask.

«Lillis and little Fey’cha are but children.» Stalking at Rain’s right hand side as he and Ellysetta walked away from the throne, Kieran did not even attempt to disguise his displeasure. «.Fey do not sell children, not even to protect Eld border land.»‘

‘I don’t like the idea of betrothing Lillis and Lorelle to anyone,’ Ellie whispered at the same time. ‘They should have a chance to grow up and find someone they can love.”

Rain wove a quick net of Air and Spirit about their small group to ensure privacy before he responded. ‘It is the offer of alliance that is important, not the manner of bonding “

‘Then why would the king mention marriage?’ Ellie asked, frowning at Rain.

‘He was telling us Lords Morvel and Barrial are willing to garrison Fey warriors in their holdings,’ Dax said. ‘Ellysetta, they know the Fey would not leave your family members anywhere in Celieria without a substantial number of warriors to protect them.”

Rain wondered how the king had achieved such a coup. As he’d spent the past few days discovering, reason alone didn’t seem much of an inducement to the nobles.

‘And,’ Marissya added, ‘by publicly inviting you to the Prince’s ball and mentioning the possibility of a betrothal between your sisters and two of the Great Houses, the king has also made it clear that you and your family are to be accepted by the other nobles.”

‘That’s all well and good, but I don’t want Mama or Papa thinking high-ranking political marriages are in the girls’ best interest. Lillis and Lorelle aren’t chattel to be bartered and sold.”

‘Las, shei’tani.’ Rain said. ‘I will speak to Morvel and Barrial and make it clear that no formal offers of marriage are to be extended to your parents.’ He dispelled the privacy weaves and turned to the prime minister. ‘You may begin the introductions, Lord Corrias.’

During the next two bells of introductions and polite mingling, Lord Corrias introduced Ellie and Rain to what seemed like hundreds of Celierian nobles and whispered a steady stream of information into Rain’s ear as they went, identifying each individual’s estate holdings, and what each one stood to gain or lose if the Eld borders were opened for trade. Ellie’s head was swimming with the bombardment of information, but Rain seemed to take it in and process it with enviable efficiency.

She stood at Rain’s side, trying her best to be ‘grave and gracious’ It was a good thing Master Fellows had told her not to smile, as that would have proven difficult. The Tairen’s Eye crown and bracelets, while physically light, discomfitted her. A low, constant hum of power radiated from the crystals, resonating in her skin and setting her nerves on edge.

Despite the king’s announcement, many of the approaching nobles made a point of eyeing the sparkling crystals before forcing themselves to bow before the woodcarver’s daughter. Some pretended to be more welcoming. They smiled with too-bright smiles, complimented her hair and dress, and murmured concern about yesterday’s attack, but she knew their hard, glittering eyes were sizing her up and searching for any little fault in her appearance or behavior that would put Rain to shame. She refused to give it to them. Holding her head high, she greeted each with solemn reserve. Rain, to his credit, kept his temper in check—and was even on occasion rather charming. The nobles who’d come hoping to gawk at a wild tairen and his peasant bride found themselves meeting a Fey king and his reserved queen instead.

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 Fey’ 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 Twenty. 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?

Somehow, some way, Dorian had managed it. If it had been for any other purpose, she’d be luminous with pride, ebullient with the proof of her royal husband’s irrefutable power. But not for this. As always, he stirred himself most not on behalf of his own family, his own wife, but for those gods- cursed, soul-scorching Fey.

Annoura downed the rest of her wine in one angry gulp, then shuddered a little as the warmth washed over her in waves. She’d have to be careful. She hadn’t eaten much today, and the deceptively sweet blue wine would quickly go to her head.

Wouldn’t it be amusing if the girl got drunk and made a fool of herself? From nowhere, the memory of Jiarine’s wicked laughter popped into Annoura’s head.

She stared at the empty glass in her hand. A small blue drop of liquid still clung to the rim. She scooped it up with a diamond-dusted fingertip and licked it slowly from her skin as she watched Rain Tairen Soul squiring his woodcarver’s daughter from one group of nobles to another, watched the obsequious smiles and the fawning that had already begun.

The dinner gong rang. Annoura handed her glass to a passing servant, forced a serene smile to her face, and offered her hand to Dorian. Together, shining like stars beneath the palace chandeliers, they led their guests to dinner in the banquet hall adjoining the ballroom and took up their seats at the head table.

As they waited for their guests to be seated, she called the wine steward responsible for serving the head table to her side. He was a discreet man, one she’d brought with her years ago from Capellas. ‘Do be sure to keep the Feyreisa’s wineglass full,’ she murmured to him. ‘And when keflee is served, brew her a special cup from my private stock. Use the new blend in the purple silk bag.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘I wouldn’t want to offer anything but the best to the Fey’s new queen.’