After the meal, two dozen Fey took up flutes and stringed lutars to fill the night with music. And Ellysetta discovered that the warriors of the Fey sang as masterfully as they wove magic and wielded steel. The haunting beauty of their voices rose in soaring, crystalline swells interwoven with multiple complex harmonies, and made her want to laugh and weep all at once.
Following a rousing rendition of “Ten Thousand Swords,” which the entire gathering of warriors joined in singing, the Fey made their way by the score to the front of the room. There, oneafter another, they approached the head table to greet Ellysetta and Rain, offer well wishes for the speedy completion of their truemate bond, and kneel before Marissya and the othershei’dalinsto receive their blessings.
Ellysetta noted a large group of warriors at the back of the hall—Tajik vel Sibboreh among them—who did not join the others in approaching the front table where the women sat. The aura of somberness about them caught Ellysetta’s attention and would not let go. They sang with the other Fey, but their smiles were not so frequent, and their laughter was quietly subdued.
“Rain, who are those warriors?”
Rain followed her gaze. “Those are therasa. They are as Bel was before you made his heart weep again.”
Ellysetta’s heart contracted. She remembered how Bel had been when she’d first met him: his eyes full of shadows and pain, the careful way he had avoided meeting her gaze for more than a few brief moments at a time, the sorrow that hung about him like a shroud.
“Why are they not coming forward to receive ashei’dalinblessing?”
“They have seen too many battles and carry the weight of too many souls upon theirs. Theshei’dalinscannot lay hands upon them without sharing their pain, so our women do not touch them except to heal mortal wounds.”
“That isn’t fair,” Ellysetta muttered, frowning at the solitary warriors.
“Little in life ever is,shei’tani,” Rain replied. “But it is the Fey way, and all Fey warriors accept that life is a dance of duty, honor, and sacrifice.”
It was the one aspect of Fey culture that her heart railed against. Those men, those warriors, had sacrificed so much for their country, and ultimately, if they could not find their own truemates, they would have to choosesheisan’dahlein, the honor death, or they would slip down the Dark Path and becomedahl’reisen, banishedforever from the beauty of the Fading Lands. There wasn’t even any guarantee a truemate existed for them—only the hope that if a Fey were honorable enough, worthy enough, the gods would eventually create and set in his path the one woman whose soul could call his own. But most Fey died before ever seeing that dream come to fruition.
Her fingers tightened, the nails digging into her palms. Ever since she’d been small, the call to heal those in pain had been a powerful urge. Those Fey were hurting. She could feel their pain pricking her senses like small, sharp knives.
Ellysetta pushed her chair away from the table and stood.“Shei’tani?”Rain rose to his feet as well, a frown furrowing his brow.
“I’m going to talk to them.”
His hand caught her wrist. “Just talk?”
He was coming to know her a little too well. She wasn’t sure that was a good thing. “Perhaps offer them ashei’dalin’s blessing,” she admitted.
“Nei, you must not touch them,” he commanded. When she set her jaw, he explained on a low throb of Spirit,«Though you mean well, your offer would shame them. You would force them to hurt you by refusing your gift, or hurt you by causing you pain with their touch. Either way, their hearts would bleed with remorse.»
Scowling, Ellysetta sat back down. She knew that if she went over to therasa, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from trying to heal them. Earlier, the music and the joyful celebration had masked their pain, but now therasa’s torment—and her own urge to lessen it—beat at her.
“Beylah vo, shei’tani,”Rain murmured.
“Don’t thank me for letting them suffer.”
He laid his hand over hers. “That is not why I thanked you.”
Many bells after the last song was sung and the last warrior sought his bed, Ellysetta lay beside Rain, staring up at the ceiling overhead, unable to sleep. She was tired beyond measure, but she could not stop thinking about those Fey, therasa. She hated the thought of their living here in semiexile without so much as the comfort of an embrace or a loving hand touching theirs to wish them gods’ mercy and a safe return when they headed into battle.
No man, not even a Fey warrior trained to fight since birth, should have to watch other Fey receive theshei’dalinblessings and warmth he was denied.
She rose from the bed, pulled on a robe, and cast a glance over her shoulder. Rain was sleeping. The long journey from Celieria City, the magic he’d spun to help restore Teleon to its former glory, and the exhaustion of today’s trials in the Mists had finally taken their toll. He hadn’t stirred.
If she wanted to do this, now was the time.
She started for the door, then froze when he shifted on the bed. He would not be happy if he woke to find her gone.
He would be even less happy when he found out what she’d done.
Ellysetta stood there, wavering, but soon, the throb of the warriors’ pain began beating at her again. She drew her robe more snugly about her and tightened the sash. Tomorrow she and Rain would fly to Fey’Bahren in the hope that she could save the tairen. Neither of them knew if she really could.
But healing souls was something she already knew she could do. She still didn’t understand how she did it, but she could. And Ellysetta was not the kind of woman who could ever stand by and witness the suffering of another without offering aid. Therasawere in pain. She was going to heal them.
With careful silence, Ellysetta opened the bedchamber door and slipped through.
