“Nei, Rain!”the Truthspeaker protested. Her voice wasn’t calm now. It was afraid.“Nei, shei’tan!”Then in Celierian, “I didn’t mean to frighten you. Please, forgive me! Calm yourself. Guard your feelings.”
It took a startled moment for Ellie to realize the Truthspeaker was addressing her.“Me?”
“Yes! Can you not see he is protecting you?” Even as she spoke to the girl, Marissya sent a silent plea to Rain.«I’m sorry, Rain. I didn’t mean to frighten her. Please. She is unhurt. See for yourself. Be calm. You must be calm. It is you who frighten her now.»And to her truemate, whose thoughts and feelings she sensed as her own,«Dax, shei’tan, I am not hurt. She only surprised me. It is my fault. I should not have probed her. She felt it and was frightened. Rain responds to her fear, to protect her, as you protect me. Please, let go before someone gets hurt.»
Neither Rain nor Dax relaxed his grip on his power or his rage. It wasn’t surprising. A Fey Lord reacted violently to even the smallest perceived threat to his mate.
«Please, Rain. She needs you strong for her, in control of yourself. You must control the tairen in you. She was hurt, and you came. You protected her. She is safe.»
«She fears you.»Blazing, half-mad lavender eyes pinned her.«I will not permit it.»
«I’m sorry. I—»The weave of Fire and Air appeared without warning. With incredible speed and dexterity, Rain had rewoven the protective cone of magic, shutting Marissya and Dax out, closing himself and the Celierian girl within.
It took Rain several chimes to beat back the tairen’s fury, to shove it into a small corner of his mind and keep it there. Only then did he turn to face the woman whose emotions ripped at his sanity. Her fear—of him, he knew, despite his wanting to blame Marissya—tore at him in ways he’d never known. The web of Spirit he’d woven around her winked out as he released his power back to the elements. Still, she cowered from him. Rain would have torn out the heart of any other man who dared to frighten her this badly, yet he would not—could not—leave her.
“Come.” His tone was imperious, yet the hand he held out trembled. “I could never harm you,shei’tani.” His Celierian was rusty, deeply accented with Fey tones, and his attempt to appear nonthreatening was equally out of practice. The tairen in him still clawed at the edges of his control, all fiery passion, possessiveness, and primitive instinct. “I am called Rainier.”
“I know.” Her eyes were huge in the too-thin oval of her face. Twin pools of verdant green, they stared at him as if he were a monster. “You scorched the world once. It’s in all the history books.”
“That was a very long time ago.” He tried to summon a smile, but the muscles in his face couldn’t seem to remember how to form one. “I promise you are safe with me.” His fingers beckoned her. “Come. Give me your hand.”
The exotic flares of her brows drew together in a suspiciousfrown. “Why? So you can try to invade my thoughts like the Truthspeaker?” Rain could see she was still afraid, very afraid, yet she was working hard to master her fear.
“I... apologize for Marissya. She had no right.”
“Then why did she do it?”
“She was... curious about you.” She had done it to find answers, of course. Answers to the questions of how a Celierian child-woman could wield the power he had felt, and more importantly, how she could possibly be Rain’sshei’tani.
“Did she never think to justask?” The asperity in her voice was unmistakable. The delicate, frightenedshei’tanihad steel in her spine after all.
“She will now. Believe me.” The tairen in him was slowly subsiding. It had ceased pounding the door of its cage and was now pacing restlessly within, edgy but contained. For the moment. But it, like him, had a great need to touch this woman. Once more he held out his hand. “Come. Give me your hand. Please.” The last was more a genuine plea than an afterthought. “I would give my life before allowing harm to come to you.”
Ellie stared at the outstretched hand in stunned silence. Was Rainier vel’En Daris, King of the Fey, truly standing before her, vowing to sacrifice his immortal life to protect her? Her, Ellie Baristani, the woodcarver’s odd, unattractive, and embarrassingly unwed adoptive daughter? Surely she was dreaming.
But this all seemed so real. And he was so beautiful.Beautifully and fearfully wrought.Her dazed mind supplied the quote from Avian’s classic epic poem, “Rainier’s Song.” Avian, she now knew, had barely got the half of it. She had dreamed of Rain Tairen Soul all her life, and here he was. She felt herself moving towards him, her hand reaching out. He had asked, and she had to touch him. If only to be sure he was real.
Her fingers trembled as they slid into his. She trembled as his hand closed about hers. Warmth, like the spring heat of the Great Sun, spread through her body, and a sense of peace unlike anything she’d ever felt came over her. She heard him inhale deeply, watched his eyes flutter closed. A nameless expression, an unsettling mix of joy and pain, crossed his face.
He drew her closer, and she went without protest, dazed with wonder as his arms, so lean and strong, wrapped her in a close embrace. Her ear pressed against his chest. She felt the unyielding bristle of the countless sheathed knives strapped over his chest, heard the beat of his heart, and was oddly reassured. There was safety here as no other place on earth.
She felt him bow his head to rest his jaw on her hair, the touch feather light. Tears beaded in her lashes at the simple beauty of it.
“Ver reisa ku’chae. Kem surah, shei’tani.”He whispered the words against her hair.
“You said that before,” she murmured. “What does it mean?” It sounded familiar, like something she had heard or read somewhere. She felt the stillness in him, the hesitation, and she pulled back to look up into his eyes.
His gaze moved slowly over her face as if he were committing her likeness to memory for all time. “I don’t even know your name.”
She blinked in surprise. Since the moment she had put her hand in his and he had pulled her into his arms, she felt as if he knew everything there was to know about her. It was surprising and disconcerting to realize that, in fact, they knew each other not at all. “Ellie,” she told him solemnly. “My name is Ellysetta Baristani.”
“Ellie.” Liquid Fey accents savored the syllables of her simple name, making it something beautiful and exotic. “Ellysetta.” His pale, supple hand brushed the mass of her hair. His gaze followed the path of his fingers as they delved deep into the untamable coils. “Ellysetta with hair like tairen flame and eyes the green color of spring. I’ve seen the mist of your reflection in The Eye of Truth.” His gaze returned to hers, filled with wonder and regret. “Ver reisa ku’chae. Kem surah, shei’tani. Your soul calls out. Mine answers, beloved.”
At last Ellie remembered why the Fey words seemed so familiar. She’d read them before in a slim volume of translated Fey poetry. It was the greeting a Fey man spoke to a woman when recognizing and claiming her as his truemate.
The strange buzzing in her ears was all the warning Ellie received before her knees buckled.
Rain caught the girl as her legs gave way and held her tight to his chest, even as his own legs trembled beneath him. She was not the only one stunned by his claim.
