“Yes, that’s why she has such a tragic, melancholy air about her. The king upheld Lord diSebourne’s marriage claim, and the Fey who tried to claim her left with the rest of his countrymen two weeks ago. She’s been quite distraught ever since.” Jiarine heaved an exaggerated sigh, and then her red lips curled.
Nour’s eyes flickered with faint irritation. “You may understand the court, my dear, but you have much to learn about the Fey.” He directed his attention back to the very beautiful and indeed quite melancholy Lady diSebourne and let his gaze sweep across the section of ballroom surrounding her, counting the faint telltale glow of Fey invisibility weaves. A full quintet, to guard the preciousshei’tani, plus another two off to one side. The unfortunate suitor, no doubt, with a friend to keep him from doing something rash like starting a war.
The corner of his lip curled up. The possibilities of that situation bore careful consideration. For now, however, he had other work to do.
“Where is this Great Lord Darramon you were telling meabout?”
“Over there, just approaching Queen Annoura.” Jiarine nodded her head in the direction of Celieria’s beautiful queen. “As I told you, his wife is very ill, and from what Fanette was able to pry out of his servants, the Fey have offered to heal her. He’s preparing a caravan to take her to the Garreval. Fanette tells me they’re scheduled to leave tomorrow.”
“Then we must move quickly.”
Chapter Sixteen
We are the steel no enemy can shatter.
We are the magic no Dark power can defeat.
We are the rock upon which evil breaks like waves.
We are Fey, warriors of honor, champions of Light.
Fey Warriors’ Creed
The Warriors’ Academy of Dharsa was an imposing structure perched on the crest of Anas Mena, the city’s northernmost hilltop. Like all other buildings in the city, the Academy was built of gleaming white stone, but the golden spires on its roof were greatseyaniblades stabbing up into the sky, and all along the rooftop, silverstone Fey warriors crouched in battle stance, arms extended, curvedmeichagripped in silverstone fists.
At the front of the building, the Warriors’ Gate leading into the compound was a broad, barrel-arched corridor with a series of four inner gates that symbolized the four-hundred-year journey undertaken by every boy who grew to become a lethal, disciplined Fey warrior within these walls.
The first gate wasShalin, the boy, carved from fresh-scented fruitwood that portrayed dozens of scenes from the first hundred years of a Fey youth’s warrior’s training. The second wasCha, the blade. Forged of shining steel, its gleaming surface was etched with the symbols of the advanced sword moves taught to Fey warriors during their second hundred years. The third gate,Faer, which meant “magic,” was woven entirely of hundredfold weaves of power, symbolizing the mastery of magic that was the focus of the third century of a Fey’s training.
And finally,Chakai, the champion, a carved silverstone gate as thick as a Fey was tall and spiked with hundreds of sharp steel Fey’cha blades. Across its weighty, unyielding surface, impossible to move except through magic, the Warriors’ Creed was written in blazing five-fold weaves.
Gaelen, Bel, Tajik, Rijonn, and Gil stood beside Rain on the stone-paved road leading up to the gate. All of them stared up at the looming entrance, flanked on each side by two massive silverstone Fey warriors who looked down as if in grim warning upon all who entered.
“You are certain you want to do this?”
Rain glanced at Gaelen. That had to be at least the fourth time the formerdahl’reisenhad asked the question since breakfast two bells ago. Though Gaelen looked as cocky as ever, his oft-repeated question revealed just how thin that facade of self-assurance truly was.
“I am certain,” Rain answered, as he had each of the previous three times. “Are you?”
The formerdahl’reisenarched one black brow. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” He gave a dismissive snort. “There are none within who could give me cause for concern, even on their best days.”
“Good,” Rain said. “Because I’m sure there will be more than a few eager to try. You broke your honor. They will not let you off gently.” He turned to lead the way through the Warriors’ Gate. Tajik, Rijonn, and Gil followed on his heels.
Gaelen hesitated just long enough to earn a knowing look from Bel.
“You are Fey once more,” Bel said with quiet reassurance.“Give them time to remember that, treat them with the respect your blade brothers deserve, and they will welcome you.”
Gaelen adjusted his weapons belts and set his jaw. “Let them keep their welcome—and their disapproval. If they allow pride to prevent them from learning what skills I have to teach, they deserve their fate.”
“True,” Bel agreed. “Cloaking oneself in blind pride is as foolish as donning glass armor for war. I’m glad you recognize it for the danger it is.”
Gaelen gave vel Jelani a sour look. “You are as subtle as arultshartin rut.”
Bel responded to the insult with a grin. “Humility isn’t a poison draft,” he said. “It wouldn’t kill you to try a sip.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“Just think of the joy on your sister’s face when she sees you leading the warriors of the Fey into battle like the hero you once were.” With a speaking lift of his brow, Bel turned and jogged after Rain, Tajik, Gil, and Rijonn.
