“How dare you burst into this chamber and issue demands!” One of the lords in the blue-velvet-upholstered lesser thrones surged to his feet.
Rain did not recognize the man, but the coldness in his brown eyes and the arrogance etched into every line of his face were not strangers to him. The man’s heavy, well-defined musculature, emphasized rather than hidden by the tailored cut of his expensive garments, bespoke a long familiarity with the arts of mortal warfare.
«Lord Sebourne,»Dax informed Rain.«A lord of the northern march. His family took over Wellsley’s land three centuries ago after the Great Plague.»
“You do not rule here, Tairen Soul!” Lord Sebourne continued. “And this is not one of the remote villages in the northern provinces where Fey crimes go unwitnessed and unpunished!” He jabbed a finger in Rain’s direction. “Your general murdered an unarmed Celierian citizen—a child, no less! He will be held accountable for his actions!”
Several of the Twenty nodded in agreement.
“Feycrimes?” Rain drew himself up to his full height. “My truemate—my queen—” he emphasized, casting a hard glance Annoura’s way, “was stabbed by that Celierian citizen you call an ‘unarmed child.’ Be grateful I haven’t burned this city to ash around your ears!”
Annoura sat up straight in her throne. “Are youthreateningus, Feyreisen?”
“Annoura!” Dorian snapped. His queen glared but fell silent, and he turned back to Rain and Sebourne to say in a more conciliatory tone, “Gentlemen, please, hot tempers and threats are no way to solve anything.” He rose from his throne and gestured for the Fey to approach. “My Lord Feyreisen, Lord Dax, Lady Marissya, a private word please?”
Grudgingly, with a hard look for Sebourne and Celieria’s too-proud queen, Rain followed Dorian into a small adjoining antechamber.
“There are witnesses,” Dorian informed them as soon as the door closed; “dozens of them, all who claim the child was an innocent bystander.”
“That boy was no innocent,” Rain replied. “He joined Ellysetta and me in a game of Stones for the express purpose of stabbing her.”
“He could have killed her, Dorian,” Marissya added, “and would have if Rain had not been there to stop the blood loss.”
Dorian eyed both of them. “I have to ask... is there any possibility Ser vel Jelani made a mistake? Could he have slain the wrong child by accident?”
“Nei,” Rain said without hesitation. “Bel is the most experienced warrior in the Fading Lands. He would not have been so careless. But even so, he didn’t kill the boy. Kieran tells me someone else wove death on the child the moment he was trapped—to keep him from revealing who hired him, no doubt.”
The Celierian king rubbed a hand over his face and sighed wearily. “I have no wish to prosecute Ser vel Jelani, but Sebourne and several others who are already concerned about the recentdahl’reisenmurders see this as yet more proof of Fey magic run amok. Sebourne is demanding a full-blown inquiry and trial, and he’s got four of the Twenty agreeing with him.”
Rain’s eyes narrowed. “If someone means harm to Ellysetta, stripping Bel from hercha’korcould be part of a plan to makeher more vulnerable to attack. I cannot allow you to endanger her that way.”
“And I’ve just explained why I cannot simply pardon Ser vel Jelani out of hand.”
“Then don’t.” Rain swept an arm towards Marissya. “We have a Truthspeaker. Have Bel swear a Fey oath, undershei’dalintouch, that he did not kill this boy.”
“You want us to trusther?” Lord Sebourne cried when Dorian announced his intentions. “Your Majesty, this is an outrage. How could we possibly trust the Fey Truthspeaker to tell us the truth if the man is guilty? She’s one of them!”
Rain grabbed Dax before the man pulled steel in the council chamber to defend his truemate’s honor. What had the world come to that a Great Lord of Celieria would cast doubt on the integrity of Marissya v’En Solande?
“Do not push us too far, mortal,” Rain warned. “Were Queen Annoura attacked on foreign soil, this Council would howl for war. The Fey have not done so. But be warned, we will not meekly accept insult atop an already grievous injury.”
King Dorian cleared his throat, the sound drawing all eyes to him. “Lord Sebourne’s holdings have suffered considerable loss of life in the recentdahl’reisenraids. Those losses have obviously affected his normally sound judgment.”
“Your Majesty!” Sebourne protested.
Dorian didn’t spare a glance for the angry border lord but kept his gaze firmly fixed on Rain. “Of course, the Lady Marissya’s honesty stands above reproach. She has served with honor and integrity on every Supreme Council we have convened for the past thousand years. No clear-thinking lord of Celieria would cast her centuries of service in doubt.”
Now he did level a steady, steely-eyed look on Sebourne and held it until the nobleman subsided and sat down.
“We are grateful for her gracious counsel and her service, and we hold her in the highest regard,” Dorian continued, allowing his gaze to sweep the council chamber, making eye contact with each lord of the Twenty. “The witnesses are being brought to the palace. As soon as they arrive, we will hear their testimony and that of Ser vel Jelani, and we will accept the Lady Marissya’s Truthspeaking to determine Ser vel Jelani’s guilt or innocence.”
Ravel vel Arras, leader of Ellie’s secondary quintet, and the rest of her Fey guard hustled Ellie through the city streets towards her family home. More than once they encountered small mobs of people who watched them with accusatory glares. Ellie couldn’t understand it. She could practically feel the fear and loathing emanating from them in waves.
Scraps of paper littered the roads like fallen leaves, and on several street corners, shabby pamphleteers’ boys shouted, “Fey murders unarmed Celierian child!” and handed out their leaflets as fast as their little fists could collect coin. Pamphleteers were always quick to print and disseminate their “news,” but this was fast even for them. They must have run straight from the scene of Bel’s confrontation with her young attacker to their presses.
Ellie bent to pick up one of the abandoned sheets and gasped at the awful, hate-filled accusations printed in lurid detail and presented as fact.Innocent Child Burned Alive by Savage Fey,the headline screamed. The text below was worse. Reading the vile words actually made her stomach clench and her chest feel tight, as if a cold, heavy weight were pressing against her heart. The headache that had savaged her yesterday began to throb anew.
“Ravel,” she murmured in concern, handing him the sheet.
