The Lords of the Council burst into noisy debate and accusations. The Bell of Order rang several times, its peals drowned out by the din. After several chimes, when the volume of the shouting began to die down, Dorian granted Lord Sebourne the floor.
Sebourne turned to his fellow lords and Great Lords. “Since their arrival, the Fey have tried to make us doubt our northern neighbors and cast blame upon them for the murders that Gaelen vel Serranis has admitted to committing. They have sought to fill our minds with fears of Mages and threats to our freedom, while all the while their own exiled people were the true threat.” He cast a slow, speaking gaze around the chamber. “Everyone knows the Mage Council was destroyed in the scorching of the world. What few Mages have survived were scattered to the winds, and there has been no sign of coordinated Mage activity in Eld ever since.”
He waited for the raucous chorus of supportive cries and applause to die down before continuing. “If you still have doubts, then ask yourself this: How is it vel Serranis can allege that his victims were Mage-claimed when everyone knows Mage-claiming leaves no visible sign of its existence?” He let that sink in for a moment, then answered his own rhetorical question. “No, my lords, the victims of vel Serranis’s murderous rampage were not Mage-claimed, they were just innocent peasants, simple, uneducated people who had the unhappy misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. These dubious accusations by the Fey are just the latest in a series of attempts to manipulate Celierian opinions and keep us frightened of nonexistent threats from the Eld. I urge you, my fellow lords, do not give in.”
He turned to pin first Lord Barrial, then Teleos, with an unwavering look. “And if you find yourself still wanting to believe in the protection of the Fey, remember this: Our crops are failing this year. The late freeze destroyed the spring harvest in the north, while the floods wiped out half the wheat and corn in the south and east. The Fey, for all their vast magic, have done nothing to help us. Across the river, however, Eld has prospered. From our watch towers, we see daily caravans bursting with produce heading to market.
“Even if you don’t trust the Eld, even if you cling to the old ways, can we, as responsible lords, turn our back on the opportunity to purchase food for winter? Do you think our starving tenants will care if the only meal on their table comes from Eld rather than Celieria?”
He spread his arms wide. “The Eld of non-Mage families are just people, like Celierians. Simple, mortal folk. They have come to us in peace and offered the hand of friendship. Can we not accept that they simply wish to live and prosper, as we do?”
“This is the opportunity to counter the influence of Fey magic upon us!” one of Sebourne’s followers called out.
Lord Morvel stood up in agreement. “Lord Sebourne is right.Why do we concern ourselves with the memories of some centuries-old feud? The real question is, what is best for Celieria? Even if we did not need food for winter, where’s the harm in giving the lords of Celieria an opportunity to profit from the export of our trade goods to a new market?”
The doors to the Council Chamber burst open. A familiar voice called out, “To the contrary, Lord Morvel, Lord Sebourne could not be more wrong. The Eld are not your friends, and to think of them as anything but an enemy bent on your destruction is deadly delusion.”
The lords shifted in their seats to stare at the newcomer, and a loud murmur of voices—some exultant, some outraged—rose up to fill the chamber.
Rain Tairen Soul had returned.
Chapter Nineteen
On mighty wings, the tairen soared through skies set flame by fiery roar;
Below, with bright and deathly grace, fought legions of the shining Fey.
So proud and fulsome fierce their stand ’gainst demon, Mage and witchly hand
That shei’dalins, in flowing red, wept for the brave immortal dead.
“The Battle of Eadmond’s Field”fromRainier’s Song,by Avian of Celieria
It took a full ten chimes for Dorian to regain control over the Council Chamber, and when at last the lords took their seats, he turned to Rain, eyes snapping with temper. “My Lord Feyreisen, the guards posted outside the doors of this chamber were expressly ordered not to admit anyone. Yet here you are. Explain yourself, ser.”
“You invited me to address this Council, Your Majesty,” Rain reminded him. “I have come to do so.”
“Our invitation to speak was extended before we were aware your people were harboring criminals wanted by the crown. You know Gaelen vel Serranis was captured earlier this morning, in the company of your truemate and the Fey?”
“I was informed of it a few chimes ago, as I approached the city.” He could see that the news had shaken Dorian’s faith in theFey.«I was not here when Dax and Marissya decided to keep Gaelen’s presence secret, Dorian, but in all honesty, I probably would have done the same to avoid exactly this distrust and suspicion you now harbor towards us.»
“And were you also aware that the Dark Lord escaped before he could be brought before this Council for questioning?” Annoura interjected. “Did the Fey perhaps have a hand in that?”
“The news does not surprise me. Vel Serranis has spent the last thousand years outwitting enemies far more wily and dangerous than a troop of King’s Guards.” He didn’t even have to wonder where Gaelen would be. A bloodsworn warrior never wandered far from the woman to whom he’d sworn himself.Unlike a certain unworthy truemate. Rain grimaced. When this was over and he could go to Ellysetta, he knew he would have a long, hard road to earn back the trust he’d so cravenly thrown away last night.
Dorian was speaking again. Rain forced his attention back to the king and caught the last part of what he was saying. “—so, will you stand in vel Serranis’s stead and answer any questions my lords ask of you?”
“I will not stand as a prisoner insel’dorchains, if that is what you mean,” Rain answered, “but I will answer the Council’s questions as best I am able.”
Dorian nodded. “Fair enough, My Lord Feyreisen.”
“Your Majesty!” Sebourne protested. “You cannot be serious. We can’t believe anything he says. The Truthspeaker is not here to confirm his words, and the Fey have already proven their gift for deception.”
Rain glanced at the contentious lord and arched a disbelieving brow. “You wish to Truthspeak me? You spit on the Fey, attack us at every turn, yet still want to reap the benefits of our many gifts?” He laughed without humor. “The Fey have a word for foolish mortals like you.Dravi’norah. Maggot food.”
“How dare you!”
“Calling arultshartby its name is the least of what I dare, LordSebourne.” Rain lifted one corner of his mouth, baring the edges of his teeth, and leaned forward. His pupils lengthened and widened as he sighted his prey. “You know very well the Fey are not half the enemy you claim them to be, else you’d not dare continue to taunt and torment us as you do, but I warn you, tairen are not so tolerant. Push me far enough, mortal, and this tairen will show his fangs.” He turned his back on the man, ignoring his furious sputtering. “Ask your questions, King Dorian, then grant me the freedom to speak, as we agreed.”
