Alone in her silken prison, Elfeya wept with love and joy and tried to hide her fear.«Aiyah, beloved, I do see her. She is glorious.»
Chapter Twenty-Two
Farewell, dear brave and valiant soul, take flight on gilded wing,
Soar high and laugh upon the wind, while songs of honor sing
’Til once again the Gold Horn sounds, your soul to battle calls,
Resplendent blaze of hallowed flame, to triumph over all.
Farewell, Brave Soul,a Fey Warrior’s Lament
Outside the cathedral, the battle with the demons was over, and the remaining Fey warriors gathered the dead. Two dozen warriors lay side by side in the scorched grass, their luminescent glow of Fey life extinguished. The grim proof of their desperate struggle left Rain hollow inside, scooped out like a gourd drum so the loss could echo freely inside him. He’d seen too much death in his lifetime, lost too many dear to him. It hurt. No amount of battle fatigue had ever made it stop hurting.
«Oh, Rain... so many lost.»Ellysetta’s fingers twined with his, squeezing tight.
He’d faced battles far worse than this, where the dead carpeted entire valleys and blood turned mighty rivers red, but this battle left a particular wound on his heart, a sorrow that would never be forgotten. Because this washerfirst battle,herfirst bitter draft ofloss. Friend, mother, so many of the Fey she’d begun to call by name—all lost in less than a bell. Rain would have given his own life to have spared her that.
“Come away,shei’tani. There are none here in need of healing. Demons do not leave wounded.” Gaelen had dug thesel’dorshrapnel from Rain’s shoulder, chest, and leg, while Kieran had helped a weeping Ellysetta guide healing weaves of Earth and Spirit to close Rain’s wounds and steal away his pain.
The whirling tairen radiance in Ellysetta’s eyes had subsided, leaving Fey eyes, bright as spring grass, with a slightly elongated pupil. The raw, wild power of the tairen had also quieted. Already her inner shields were instinctively rebuilding, as they’d been doing all her life.
When the warriors stepped forward, intending to send their fallen brothers’ bodies back to the elements, she stopped them. “Nei,” she said. “My countrymen have been blind too long. Let these brave Fey serve the Fading Lands one last time, as proof of the evil of the Eld.” She met Rain’s gaze, and he nodded.
The Fey tore down the weave surrounding the Isle of Grace, and King Dorian’s armored guardsmen rushed across the bridges, followed by what appeared to be the entire Council of Lords.
“What have you done? The holiest cathedral in Celieria—wantonly destroyed!” Lord Sebourne charged onto the scene, his florid face filled with righteous indignation. “Blessed gods!” he cried, catching sight of Greatfather Tivrest’s body being carried from the cathedral. “Is that the archbishop?” He turned to face Rain, eyes wild, spittle flying. “Murderers! Demons! Servants of the Dark!”
“Be silent!” Ellysetta’s voice cut across Lord Sebourne’s, curt and commanding.
The border lord gaped. “You dare? You impertinent peasant! I’ll have you—” His voice broke off in sudden confusion as he realized the fiery-haired woman at Rain’s side was not the sameshy Celierian girl he’d sneered at before. “Who are you? What demonry is this?”
Rain smiled grimly. “Careful, Lord Sebourne. My mate is peasant no longer. She is Ellysetta Feyreisa, a Tairen Soul now in more than title, and you threaten her at your peril.”
“My word,” King Dorian muttered, staring in stunned amazement at Ellysetta’s changed appearance. “How is this possible?” It was obvious Dorian could not completely shield his senses from her unveiledshei’dalinpower, the dazzling beauty, the glow of love that made him ache to protect and serve her.
“A glamour,” Rain answered. “A powerful weave placed upon her when she was but an infant to bind her magic and hide her true heritage so the Eld would not find her.” He turned a hard gaze on Annoura, who stood gaping at her husband’s side, staring at the Drab who’d been transformed so unexpectedly into a beauty who overshadowed Celieria’s most celebrated Brilliant. “So the Elden Mages would not find her.”
Turning back to Dorian, he added, “The Mages attacked her in the Grand Cathedral during the Bride’s Blessing.” He gave a quick, terse summary of what had happened, then eyed King Dorian grimly. “The Eld have learned to travel through the Well of Souls. They can deliver armies right to your doorstep, and you will have no warning until they appear.”
Murmurs of fear rippled through the courtiers, punctuated by the mutterings of several nobles who remained blindly determined to doubt.
Lifting his head, Rain addressed the entire crowd of nobles. “More than two dozen Fey slaughtered. The archbishop and head of the Order of Adelis murdered. Ellysetta’s own mother slain before her eyes. This was not the work of the Fey or thedahl’reisen.” He held Annoura’s gaze until haughty surety faltered and she looked away. “This was not the work of kind, peaceful neighbors offering the hand of friendship.” He eyed Sebourne coldly. “Thiswas no Fey tale or bogey story.” A last hard glance at Morvel had the priggish Great Lord sputtering helplessly. “This was a coordinated Mage attack, engineered by the High Mage of Eld himself. The Mages are alive and well, and ruling Eld once more. The Mage-claimed are already among you. Take a good look, my lords.” He gestured to the destruction behind him. “This is but a taste of what the Eld can do—what theywilldo if you allow them within your borders.”
Some of the fierceness faded from his expression. “What inspection you wish to make of the fallen, make it now. We burn the Eld dead within the bell and the others before dusk. It is not safe to let night fall on the bodies of the Mage-slain.”
For once, not even Annoura gainsaid him.
Ellysetta stood beside the curtained windows of Rain’s palace bedroom. Outside in the distance, beyond the city’s western gate, a column of smoke rose up against the backdrop of a brilliant orange and pink sky. That afternoon, after sending his fallen brethren back to the elements and incinerating the Elden dead with tairen flame, Rain had ordered the body of Greatfather Tivrest to be taken to a pyre just outside the city walls, where he was given a brief funeral rite by his stunned successor then set afire.
Now only her mother’s pyre yet waited.
The bedroom door opened behind her. Even without turning, she knew it was Rain. She could feel every part of him reaching out to her, his scent, his mind, his soul, all calling to her senses. Her Fey heritage and the newly awakened power of the tairen stirred forcefully in reply. Stripped of the powerful barriers that had concealed and protected her all her life, every inch of her body felt fragile and overly sensitized—like tender new skin barely formed over a deep, painful wound.
Her fingers tightened briefly on the drapery. “Is it time?”
“Your father is still in the chapel with your mother. I told him we’d give him another quarter bell, but that is as much as we dare.The sun will set soon, and your mother’s soul will be in danger if we wait any longer.”
