“If I didn’t know better, ’Jonn,” Gil quipped dryly, “I’d say she was happy to see them.”
“Only a little.” Rijonn gave a laugh that sounded more like the rumble of shifting earth.
Ellysetta beamed. “I refuse to pretend any joy less than I feel. These two lived with my family for weeks before Rain and I married. They are beloved friends, and I have missed them greatly.” Emotion misted her eyes. Rowan and Adrial had been with her when she still had a family, and seeing them was like having a little piece of Mama, Papa, Lillis, and Lorelle back in her life. Smiling through the tears, she cradled their faces in her hands and kissed them both again until even brash Rowan’s ears turned pink.
“No offense, Ellysetta,” Rowan muttered, “but please stop that before Rain arrives. I’m only eleven hundred. Far too young to die.”
She laughed and relented, settling for dragging them both towards the cushioned settee. “Come. Sit. Tell me everything. How have you been? How is Talisa? How are you both holding up? Oh, and have you met Gil and Rijonn?”
The brothers shared a dazed look as she bombarded them with her questions, but when she mentioned Gil and Rijonn, Rowan and Adrial glanced in their direction, then suddenly jumped to their feet and stood with spines stiff as pikes.
“Chakaivel Jendahr,Chakaivel Ahrimor.” Rowan executed a shallow bow with crisp military precision. “It is an honor to meet you both.” Beside him, Adrial bowed with equal precision.
“So you do know each other,” Ellysetta said.
“We have never met,” Gil said.
“Only by reputation,” Rowan said at the same time. “These are the heroes of Mowbren Glarn, one of the fiercest battles of the Mage Wars.”
“All were heroes that day,” Gil said, and the silver stars in his eyes dimmed until his irises were almost pure black. “We just happened to be among the few to survive it.”
“The few who did survive owe their lives to you. Your weaves from that day have been taught at the academy ever since.” Rowan frowned. “But I thought you were bothrasa.…”
“We were,” Rijonn said.
“Then how—” Rowan broke off. Both he and Adrial turned to look at Ellysetta. “Ah.”
“She restored the souls of three hundredrasaat the war-castle ofchakai,” Gil said. “We were among them and serve her now aslu’tanand masters in her primary quintet.”
“Aiyah, well…” Ellysetta cleared her throat and quickly introduced the otherlu’tanin the room.
“Where are Rain and Bel?” Rowan asked. “Is vel Serranis still with you?”
“Rain and Bel are with the king, discussing the defense of Celieria. And,aiyah, Gaelen is with them.” She leaned over to take Adrial’s hand. “How are you, really, Adrial?” Even as she asked, she spun a weave of healing and strength to bolster his flagging spirits. The last months had taken a toll on him.
He smiled, but his eyes remained dark, melancholy brown pools. “As well as a Fey can be, under the circumstances. Rowan has been my rock.”
“There is no hope of Talisa leaving her husband?”
Adrial’s gaze dropped.
“It does not appear so,” Rowan answered for his younger brother. “But then, she thinks Adrial left her months ago to return to the Fading Lands. As Rain commanded, we have kept our presence a secret. She does not know Adrial is here. No one does.”
“Poor Talisa.” Ellysetta clasped her hands. What would she have done if she’d dreamed of Rain all her life as Talisa had dreamed of Adrial…if she’d waited for him, year after year, refusing all proposals of marriage until the day of her twenty-fifth birthday…wedding to spare her family the shame and taint of a spinster daughter…only then to have her love arrive scant weeks after her wedding? Even now, Ellysetta could remember the soaring joy and drowning despair that had consumed Talisa when she’d realized her love had come—and she could not have him.
And then to be led to believe Adrial had simply…walked away.
The breathtaking cruelty of it ripped at her heart.
“How can either of you bear it?” She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until Adrial made a choked sound and his flare of pain scorched her senses. “Adrial!Sieks’ta!Forgive me.” She laid her hands upon his, spinning what love and peace she could to soothe his tormented soul.
“We don’t bear it. We die a little more each day.” He buried his face in his hands, shoulders heaving. “She cries herself to sleep each night and there is n-nothing I can d-do.” His voice cracked.
“Adrial.” She went to sit beside him and gathered him in her arms the way Mama had so often gathered her. Silky black hair fell across her bodice as she pressed his head to the hollow of her throat and held him close while he wept. Tears blurred her vision. She blinked them away and felt the hot fall of teardrops track down her cheeks as she met Rowan’s bleak gaze over Adrial’s head.
“What do you mean, there’s nothing to be done?” Ellysetta whirled away from the curtained windows to face her truemate, who had returned to the suite at her request when the war council broke for a short recess. “There must be something! Rain! We can’t just leave them like this. They’re suffering!”
Beneath the dictates of a powerful Spirit weave, Adrial lay sleeping in one of the suite’s attached bedrooms. An exhausted Rowan napped in a chair by his side. Ellysetta’s quintet had gathered in the sitting room, their expressions blank and stony as they watched their king and his mate argue over Adrial’s fate.
