She blinked and shook herself to clear her head. The prince and his bride stood before her, swaying slightly. The Tairen’s Eye crystal on her wrist shone with glimmering rainbow lights that dimmed even as she glanced at it in surprise.
A hand touched her elbow. Approval and joy and gleaming hope flooded her senses as Rain guided her away from the royals.
“That was no level-one weave,” Kieran said.
The warriors shared glances amongst themselves. “The gods are her key,” Bel murmured.
“What is it?” she asked. “What did I do?”
“You spun ashei’dalin’sweave upon them,” Rain told her. “You gave them health. And long life. And fertility.”
“I did?”
“Aiyah.”
“How did I do that?”
“We’ve all seen you spin powerful weaves before, despite the barriers that seem to block your magic most of the time. We’ve finally realized how you do it. The gods are your key. You call upon them just before you weave instinctive magic.” He cocked his head to one side. “Your mother raised you to believe that magic was evil but miracles from the gods were good. So when you need a small miracle, you call upon the gods, and they answer by releasing the magic within you. That’s your key.”
“You called upon the gods just before you made my heart weep again,” Bel said. “And when you took Adrial’s memory.”
“And again just now,” Kieran added.
Ellysetta saw the surprise and certainty in all their faces. A thousand scenes flashed across her mind: her effectiveness at kissing away the pain when one of the twins came to her with a small wound; her ability to soothe her mother’s agitation; the ease withwhich she found lost objects and even lost children on occasion; the way she could make herself all but invisible in a crowd when shyness overwhelmed her. The way she’d prayed and prayed for sisters—precious twins—to love.
She, Ellysetta Baristani, had made all those things happen. She may have offered herself as the vessel through which the gods could work their small glories, but the magic that made it possible had come from within. She had been working magic all her life. Just as Rain had claimed from the start. She stared up at him in shock.
“Magic isn’t evil,shei’tani. Nor are those who wield it, if they wield it for good.” He brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek. “Will you dance the Felah Baruk with me,shei’tani? On the terrace, beneath the Mother’s silver light?”
The Felah Baruk, literally the Dance of Joy, was the Fey dance of courtship and devotion. “Bel and Kieran showed me the steps, but I’m afraid I don’t remember them all.”
“It will be my pleasure to teach you.”
She placed her hand on his wrist. “Then lead the way,shei’tan.” She loved the way his eyes sparked as she called him that: truemate, husband, beloved. Hers.
They passed the armed guards standing sentry by the large, arched doorways and walked across the marbled terrace to the balustrades overlooking the palace gardens.
Rain glanced over at Kiel. “Ask the musicians to play the Felah Baruk.” The blond warrior slashed a quick bow and hurried back inside the palace ballroom. Moments later, the bright, soaring strains of the Dance of Joy spilled out through the terrace doors into the night.
Rain held out a hand, and Ellysetta took it with a smile and a curtsey.
“You mustn’t laugh if I miss a step,” she told him. But even as she spoke, she found herself moving gracefully, instinctively, in the patterns that symbolized Fey courtship and bonding. Sheturned slowly, swaying. He circled her, tall, dark, stern, his eyes burning. “You’re guiding me,” she whispered as she lifted an arm, passing a hand like a veil before her face, then extending it to Rain in a silent invitation.
“A little.” He touched her hands, fingers threading through hers, clasping her hand. She turned, twirling so that his arm circled her waist and she backed against his chest. “Do you want me to stop?”
“Nei.” She looked up, bending her head back so she could see his eyes. “It’s nice, actually.” He was feeding her the motions of the dance, guiding each step, but with so subtle a touch that she could almost believe it was memory, not Rain, leading her through the steps. She didn’t try to fight him, she just opened her mind and surrendered command of her body to him, and they danced as if they had danced a thousand times before.
He was home! Blessed merciful gods, he had been forgiven his sins. He was home! Gaelen vel Serranis stood in the tall grass of the Plains of Corunn. The sun beat down on his head and gleamed on the golden spires of the Tairen Soul’s palace in Dharsa, and the strains of the Felah Baruk flowed like healing magic over his body. The notes were faint, as if they were far away, but he heard them for the first time in over a thousand years, and his heart soared.
Marikah! Marissya! I’m home!
He saw them clearly, his sisters, as beautiful as life could ever be, two stars of the morning sky, running towards him with laughter and love shining on their faces, their hair unbound and flowing like banners of dark silk. Marissya, the gentler of the two, with deep, bottomless, ocean-blue eyes and hair as brown as the fertile earth. Marikah, his twin, with jet-black hair and pale blue eyes that would have seemed as cold as his own except for the love and laughter that always warmed them. His sisters ran towards him through the tall grass, their arms outstretched to welcome him. He saw Marikah’s mouth form his name. He reached for her, and shefaded, leaving him to embrace nothing but air. A frown drew his brows together as memory, fragmented and shifting like sand, disturbed his happiness. Marikah was... dead?
Nei! Nei!
But even as he shook his head and cried out in denial, Gaelen saw the scene that had played in his mind a million times. His twin Marikah lay against an intricate mosaic of blue and gold tiles, her gown an ever-deepening scarlet, matching the dark pool of thick liquid that spread beneath her, an Eld assassin’s blade plunged deep into her heart. She turned her head and reached out... not to Gaelen but to the man who lay dead beside her. The Celierian. The mortal she had chosen as her mate.
Marissya stood still in the grass, clothed inshei’dalinred, her eyes accusing.She was yours to protect and you failed. You are dead to us.
