Rain’s hands tightened briefly on his silverware.
“What is the Massan?” Ellysetta asked.
“Not what,” Dax murmured. “Who. The Massan are the five Fey lords who work with Marissya and Rain to govern the Fading Lands.”
“You mean like the Twenty?” Celieria’s twenty great lords, the nation’s largest landholders, were the most influential men in Celieria after King Dorian, and they voted on all important matters of state.
“More like his personal council of advisers.” With a slender, two-tined fork, Dax speared a slice of one of the crunchy, slightlysweet root vegetables Ellysetta had tried earlier and bit into it. “There are five Fey lords of the Massan, each mated, and each a master of the magic he represents.”
“It sounds like a quintet.”
“Aiyah, only they do not defend a singleshei’dalin. They protect the Fading Lands.”
“From what?”
Rain gave a short laugh. “For the last thousand years? From me. Or so it always seems,” he added when she frowned in concern and Marissya gave him a chiding look. “We do not often see eye to eye. If not for Marissya, we would have been at one another’s throats on more than one occasion.”
Ellysetta glanced at Dax’s mate. “Marissya serves on the Massan council too?”
“She is not just ashei’dalin,” Dax said. “She isthe Shei’dalin, the leader of all Truthspeakers and healers of the Fey.” When Ellysetta still looked confused, he explained. “In the Fading Lands, all authority ultimately rests with the Defender of the Fey. But theShei’dalin”—he indicated his mate, Marissya, with a wave of the speared vegetable—“and the Massan assist in the administration of the Fading Lands and oversee all tasks of governance that do not require the Tairen Soul’s attention.”
“What does it mean that they’re meeting without Rain and Marissya?”
“It means there is trouble brewing in Dharsa,” Rain said bluntly.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Marissya said at the same time.
Ellysetta looked between the two of them. “So which is it: trouble or nothing?”
Rain sighed. “I may have been the Feyreisen for the last thousand years, but Marissya and the Massan have been the ones leading the country since the Wars. First because of my madness, and then because I devoted all my attention to completing my Cha Baruk. Thechatokthought the discipline of the training would help me to rebuild and strengthen my internal barriers and keepmy madness in check. They were right, but the training didn’t leave me much time to be the king of the Fey.”
“You think some of the Massan grew too accustomed to wielding the power of the Tairen Throne themselves.” Ellysetta pressed a hand against her stomach. Having only just left the political turmoil of Celieria, she’d been hoping to find a measure of peace in the Fading Lands. A fool’s hope, perhaps, given that war was imminent and the tairen were dying, but still...
“Nei, Rain, do not alarm the Feyreisa,” Marissya said, frowning at him. “You know it’s nothing like that. Hunger for political power is a mortal affliction. The Fey have no such desires.”
“The tairen do not hunger for political power either, Marissya, but that does not stop the members of the pride from issuing Challenge if they think themakaileading them is weak. The strongest leads; the rest follow. That is the law of the pride.” There was a grim set to his jaw, and when Ellysetta feathered a hand across his, an unsettling mix of emotions roiled through her senses: tension, anger, and something that felt strangely like... shame.
Rain pulled his hand away to reach for his wineglass.
“The lords of the Massan are honorable Fey whose sole interest is the protection and welfare of the Fading Lands,” Marissya insisted. “They would never betray the Feyreisen.”
“Marissya, the lords of the Massan are warriors, first and foremost. I do not doubt their honor, but there’s not a Fey warrior born who is not tairen enough to issue Challenge if he believes the situation warrants it.”
“A meeting is not a Challenge, Rain, and I’m certain the Massan would not even have done that much unless something had them deeply concerned.”
Dax leaned forward, arching a brow. “Something like—oh, I don’t know—yourdahl’reisenbrother, the Dark Lord, passing through the Mists, perhaps?”
“Formerdahl’reisen.” Marissya sniffed. “And sarcasm does not become you,shei’tan.” Then she grimaced and admitted to Rain,“But Dax is right. That is why I think they met. And that’s why I think Gaelen and Bel should start for Dharsa first thing tomorrow. Once the Massan meet Gaelen face-to-face they will realize there is nothing to fear.”
Dax bent towards Rain to mutter, “Nothing to fear, but plenty not to like.”
Marissya glared at her truemate. “Dax!”
Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Rain smothered a laugh, but his expression flashed quickly to sobriety when Marissya turned her glare on him. He cleared his throat, tossed back the rest of his wine, and said, “Your idea is a good one, but I don’t want Gaelen confronting the Massan without us. The four of us will leave for Fey’Bahren at first light tomorrow. Have Bel, Gaelen, and the returning warriors meet us by the Sentinels outside of Dharsa in four days. That should give us enough time to reach Fey’Bahren, let Ellysetta spin her healing weave on the kits, and then fly to Dharsa.”
“Dax and I had planned to leave for Elvia after assisting Ellysetta at Fey’Bahren.”
Rain twisted the empty wine goblet in his hand and shook his head. “There’s no sense in negotiating with Elves before sorting out the Massan. Hawksheart will sense the disunity among us and hesitate to commit the troops we need. We’ll see to the tairen first, then the Massan, and then Elvia.”
