How was it possible? Rain sat up and swung his legs over the side of the mattress. He remembered last night, holding Ellysetta beside the riverbank and wondering at the flood of peace that almost made him weep in her arms.
Cautiously he checked the internal barricades that held back the sorrows of all those millions of souls whose weight he carried on his own. The barriers were still in place, and behind them, the torment of a thousand years still throbbed—yet the familiar pain seemed muted now, the burden lighter.
Ellysetta had healed his soul, just as she’d healed Bel’s. Not completely—that would have been beyond miraculous—but to a greater degree than Marissya’s substantialshei’dalinpowers or even tairen song had managed over the years. And she’d done it without even trying, in one brief moment of communion.
Who was she? No simple Celierian, that was certain. But if not that, then who?What?
He sent a thread of Spirit across the city.«Bel?»He didn’t even have to ask the question. Bel knew him too well.
«We are on our way to the cathedral to meet with her family’s priest and the Archbishop. She is well.»
«I must meet with Dorian this morning. I will join you when I can.»And because he could not help it, Rain sent another thought along a different path.«Shei’tani.»He felt her sudden alertness, sensed the moment of fear followed by the hesitant happiness. She didn’t like that he could send his thoughts to her, and yet she was glad he did.
«My lord?»It was a tentative mental touch at best, a whisper unbacked by power. It barely reached him. Yet because it washerwhisper, it sounded in his mind with the force of a gong. His body clenched, his need for her deep and strong and instant.
He felt the jumbled heat of her emotions and knew that half a city away his desire was lapping over, making her nerves sing with awareness, demanding a response. Innocently, doubtlessly unable to prevent it, she did respond. Nectar-sweet, liquor-potent, her own awakening desires reached out with a delicate hand and gripped him with the strength of steel. He staggered from the impact of her untutored, unshielded emotions. He flung out his hand, fingers curling around the bedpost to steady himself, and sucked in a deep, ragged breath.Gods have mercy. Within him, the tairen stretched and dug its claws deep. He felt it reach for her, felt her quick flare of fear as she sensed it. He slammed down his mental barriers, groaned as he pitted his will against the tairen’s and battled it back into submission.
«I will come to you soon, shei’tani,»he sent when he could, accompanying the thought with the mental projection of a kiss that he placed with warm promise on her lips.
How did he do that?Ellie touched her lips. The Spirit kiss had felt every bit as convincing as the real thing. She could even smell Rain’s fresh, distinctive scent and feel the warmth of his arms pulling her close.
“I hope the meeting with Father Celinor and the Archbishopdoesn’t take too long,” she said. She glanced at her mother as they walked down Celieria’s busy streets. “I promised the girls I’d meet them in the park for a game of Stones.”
“I still don’t know why you made that promise, Ellie,” Lauriana chided. “You knew how busy we were going to be today.”
“I knew,” Ellie agreed. “But I suspected I’d need a break after dealing with the queen’s craftsmasters. And I was right.”
Four unpleasant bells in the company of haughty dressmakers, cobblers, and clothiers had left Ellie aching to leap into the nearest hermit hole. Who knew wealthy people spent so much time in pursuit of the perfect outfit, or that there were so many decisions to be made for so simple a task? Until today, Ellie had never realized that the number of buttons on a lady’s boot held some particular social significance. Gods! What utter madness! Not to mention the fact that each and every one of the merchants had sniffed at her common appearance and made it clear they served her only because the queen had commanded them. The worst was Maestra Binchi, the queen’s dressmaker, who had sized her up in one cold, calculating glance, sneered, and muttered something about silk purses and sowlet ears.
Lauriana shook her head. “You shouldn’t have let them bother you, Ellie. They may be masters of their own crafts, and serving by appointment of the king or queen, but so is your father now. They’re no better than you or I, even if they do have a bit more gold in their pockets. In fact—though I still think your father made a dreadful mistake—you’re the betrothed of a king now. They should be thanking the gods for the opportunity to serve you.”
Ellie didn’t answer. Mama was very good at ignoring the opinions of others when it suited her. Ellie wasn’t so lucky. She’d felt the dislike of those merchants crawling over her skin until she’d wanted to cry out that she had no more choice about being there than they did.
Ahead, the road curved to the right, and Celieria’s Grand Cathedral of Light came into view. Built entirely of gleaming, hand-carved white marble and gold leaf, the Grand Cathedral stood testament to both the glory of the Bright Lord and the mastery of ancient Celierian, Fey, and Elvian artisans. Situated on the small Isle of Grace in the middle of the Velpin River, it rose up from the clear blue depths of the river like a palace of white clouds and sunbeams. Four gilded, sun-bright bridges radiated from the four corners of the island, connecting the holy site to the more mundane streets of the city.
Thirteen spires adorned the cathedral’s golden roof, one for each of the major gods. The largest of the spires rose up on six marble columns from the top of the central dome. An enormous statue of Adelis, Lord of Light, stood in the center of those columns, arms upraised, holding aloft a golden crystal globe that blazed an eternal beacon.
Every time Ellie saw the cathedral, it both awed and frightened her. Even now, as she crossed the golden northeast bridge and climbed the thirteen steps leading up to the cathedral’s Grand Entrance, her stomach roiled and her palms went clammy. She loved the Bright Lord, but his priests would forever be tied in her memory with the terror of her childhood exorcism.
Father Celinor, the priest from her family’s West End church, was waiting in the covered portico just outside the cathedral doors. A young man with bright blue eyes and sandy hair that always seemed mussed, Father Celinor was the first cleric who’d ever managed to get past Ellie’s terror of priests after her childhood exorcism.
“Madam Baristani.” He held out his hands and exchanged the kiss of peace with Ellie’s mother, then turned to her, smiling with genuine affection and welcome. “And Ellysetta.” His fingers squeezed hers. “I never dreamed the Most High had such plans in store for you. This is your opportunity to share the Word of Light with those who have not heard its call.”
Ellie gave a small laugh. “Let me find peace in my new life first, Father. But you may take comfort that the Fey already do follow the Bright Path.”
“Of course.” He patted her hand and smiled. “Come meet the Archbishop.” He glanced at the Fey warriors. “I’m afraid canon law forbids you from entering the cathedral bearing arms. You must leave your blades at the door. There is a room there to the left where you may check them with Brother Vericel before entering.”
“Fey protecting ashei’tanido not shed their steel,” Bel replied.
“Then you must remain here, outside the sanctuary. Not even the King himself may carry weapons across this threshold. The Cathedral is a holy place, a haven of peace.”
Bel exchanged a glance with the rest of Ellie’s quintet. Without another word, all five removed their Fey’cha belts, the curvedmeichaat their waists, and the twinseyaniswords strapped across their backs. They handed the weapons to their Fey brethren. Bel gestured, and all but Ellysetta’s quintet and five other Fey fanned out to surround the cathedral.
“We will observe your custom,” he conceded, “but no one will be permitted to enter or leave this building or island so long as the Feyreisa remains within.”
Father Celinor’s jaw went lax. He hurried to the top of the steps and gaped at the sight of Fey weaving magical barriers at the bridges. “You can’t block access to the Isle of Grace! This is the Grand Cathedral of Light, a haven to all.”
“So long as Celierian custom dictates that Fey steel must remain outside the cathedral while the Feyreisa stands within,Feycustom dictates that all haven-seekers will have to wait until she departs.” Bel held the priest’s shocked gaze without wavering. “As we honor your customs, you shall honor ours.”
