The moment he spoke, it was as if a great Light suddenly burst forth from the darkness. Ellysetta looked up at Rowan, hope sparking in her eyes. “Why couldn’t he?”
“Why couldn’t he what?”
“Sleep like this until she is free to come to him?” Excitement shot through her. “Rowan, that’s it!” She grabbed his arms. “Just like the Fey tale of the sleeping princess.”
“What Fey tale? What are you talking about?”
“Have you never heard the Fey tale about the sleeping princess? An evil witch spurned by a handsome king took her revenge on him by cursing his firstborn child to prick her finger on a rose and—Oh, never mind about the Fey tale.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Why can’t we put Adrial in a weave that keeps him sleeping peacefully until Talisa lives out her life with Lord diSebourne? Then when Lord diSebourne dies, she will be free to go to Adrial.”
“But that could be decades from now.”
She laughed. “What’s a little time to the immortal Fey? Rowan, don’t you see? She could go to the Fading Lands as a ninety-year-old crone and theshei’dalinscould heal her back to youth. Her age would make no difference. Keeping Adrial safe from the bond madness is all that matters.”
“You’re assuming the bond madness won’t afflict him if he’s sleeping.”
She nodded. “Yes, I am. But it’s a chance, at least. All he faces now is certain death.”
Rowan frowned down at his sleeping brother. “I don’t know. Nothing like this has ever been done.”
“There has to be some sort of weave theshei’dalinscould spin on him. The Fey made the Faering Mists, and that takes people out of time. If they could spin a similar weave on Adrial—or even put him to sleep and take him into the Mists to wait for Talisa. Then Talisa’s quintet could continue to watch over her and bring her to the Fading Lands when she’s free.”
“The Mists do take people out of time,” Rowan agreed. “It’s possible whatever weaves the Fey spun to create the Mists are still recorded somewhere in the Hall of Scrolls.”
“We can ask Tealah to look into it. She’s the Keeper of the Hall of Scrolls now.”
“Do you really think this could work?”
“Aiyah,” she said. “I do.”
For the first time since he’d stepped into the suite, she felt hope flicker inside him.
Unfortunately, when Adrial awoke a bell later, he didn’t share his brother’s interest. Instead of embracing the idea—or even considering it—he shook his head.
“I will not leave Talisa.”
“But, Adrial,” Ellysetta protested, “if you stay, you’ll die. This gives you a chance, at least—hope that you can still find joy together in this lifetime.”
Adrial smiled gently. “I know you mean well, Feyreisa. And I appreciate the idea—truly, I do. But my place is at myshei’tani’sside. I cannot leave her.” He rose to his feet and adjusted the straps of the Fey’cha belts crisscrossed over his chest. “We should go now, Rowan. We’ve been away long enough.”
Rowan’s eyes fell, but without a word, he followed his younger brother to the door.
“Adrial…” Ellysetta followed them. “Please. Stay with her if you must for as long as you can, but before the bond madness has you in its grip, before you take your own life or force Rowan to slay you, please reconsider. The Fey are too few. Every life is precious. We can’t afford to lose you—or Talisa, for that matter.”
Adrial hesitated, then nodded before he stepped out the door.
The war council continued past the first silver bells of night. Together, and with the aid of Bel’s Spirit weaves, they examined scenario after scenario for the coming battle of Kreppes and the naval invasion of Great Bay.
“There’s one last possibility we must consider,” Rain told the assembly. “Celieria City.” He paced over to the wall of maps and pulled out the map of Celieria City and Great Bay. “We must assume the Eld are here in the city, and we must assume they can simply open gateways inside the city and release their armies directly. We cannot leave the city unprotected. When Prince Dorian goes to King’s Point, we must leave an experienced commander with enough forces to ensure the safety of the city.”
“The queen will be here,” said Dorian. “She will oversee the defenses of the city.”
Rain’s expression turned to stony blankness. A glance at Bel, Gaelen, and Tajik showed similar reactions. Queen Annoura’s blatant distrust of the Fey would make her an uneasy ally at best. He didn’t trust her to put her people’s safety above her own animosity towards the Fey.
Reading their doubts, Dorian bristled. “Ser vel Serranis has already checked the queen for Mage Marks. She bears none. I can think of no reason why I should not entrust the safety of the city to her, as I always have in my absence. Lord Corrias will be at her disposal, as will Lord General Voth. Both of them have ample experience in military matters.”
Rain exchanged a brief glance with Bel. What choice did they have? Despite their concerns, she was Dorian’s queen and the ruler of Celieria in her own right. Reluctantly, Rain inclined his head. “If that is your will,doreh shabeila de. I suggest, however, that we leave a contingent of Fey here in the city to aid her in the event that the Mages do open a portal within the gates.”
«The regiments remaining in the city should be checked weekly for Mage Marks,» Gaelen remarked on a private weave. «And we should check all other troops before they depart. No sense in leaving a fangtooth in the woodpile.»
