«If there were time, I would agree,» Rain replied, «but we cannot delay our departure to Elvia.»
«I could send for the dahl’reisen.»
Rain’s muscles clenched in instant protest. «Out of the question.» No matter how much he might trust Gaelen now—no matter even that Rain was technicallydahl’reisenhimself—putting his faith in warriors who walked the Shadowed Path was an altogether different matter. «Even if Dorian would approve it, I would not. I could never trust them. You saw the same thing I did in Orest.»
«I cannot deny some dahl’reisen have chosen to serve the Eld; but the dahl’reisen who serve the Brotherhood are not so devoid of honor. They remember what it was to be Fey, and they fight each day against the Dark.»
«Do you believe in their honor so deeply you would risk your life to prove it?»
«Aiyah,» Gaelen answered without hesitation.
«And do you trust them so completely you would also risk Ellysetta’s life?»
Thick black lashes shuttered the piercing ice blue of Gaelen’s eyes for a brief moment as he cast his gaze downward. «Perhaps not,» he admitted.
«Neither would I,» Rain agreed. «So do not speak of it again. The Fey have survived and fought the Eld for millennia without knowing who was Mage-claimed. Tempting as it may be to know which mortals have been turned, I will not fight off the wolves by inviting a lyrant into our midst.» He straightened from the table and directed his attention to King Dorian. “The day grows late. We have accomplished much today, but now Ellysetta and I must depart.”
“Will you not stay the night, at least?” the king asked.
“There is no time. We must travel swiftly if we are to have any chance of reaching Danael and Elvia in time. I must take my leave of you. My lords.” He nodded to the assembled war council. “Cann.” To the brown-eyed border lord, he offered a warmer smile of friendship and a handclasp. “Be well, my friend. And good luck…with everything.” He let his eyes say the words his lips did not.
“Same to you, Rain.”
“We’ll join you as quickly as we can. Until then, keep your blade sharp and at the ready.”
Cann gave his trademark wolfish smile. “Always.”
King Dorian walked Rain to the council room doors. Bel, Gaelen, and Tajik followed close behind. “Assembling the armies and preparing the supply wagons will take a few days, but we should begin the march to Kreppes by the end of the week.”
“Kabei. I will leave one hundred warriors behind to aid your fleet and protect the Points and Celieria City. The Fey already stationed on Lord Barrial’s lands will do what they can to speed the preparations in Kreppes. Ellysetta and I will meet you there as soon as our business with the Danae and Elves is completed. I pray we will not come alone.”
They had reached the entrance to the council room. As Dorian released the privacy seal on the chamber and started to open the doors, the sound of a voice raised in anger made him pause.
“What do you mean, I can’t go in there?” a deep, familiar voice demanded in outrage. “I am a Great Lord of Celieria and one of the Twenty! You dare deny me entry?”
“I’m sorry, Great Lord Sebourne. King’s orders,” a thinner, less bellicose voice replied, but a thread of steel underlay the polite response. “The king has convened a special council, my lord. The chamber is closed to all others.”
Great Lord Dervas Sebourne, the border lord whose son Colum was wed to Cann Barrial’s daughter Talisa, gave a rude snort. “Council? What council? There are no special councils convened without the knowledge of the Twenty!”
“I am sorry, my lord. I am not at liberty to say.”
“Why, you little—”
“Sebourne!” King Dorian shoved open the council room doors and strode out into the chamber where guests scheduled to testify before the council gathered before their appearances.
The Clerk of the Council was normally seated at a gleaming hardwood desk near the front of the chamber, working quietly and guarding the entrance to the council room. At the moment, however, he was pressed against a wall, standing on his toes, his neck cloth clutched in Great Lord Sebourne’s very large fist.
“Release him at once! What is the meaning of this?”
Sebourne shoved the clerk to one side, sending the thin young man staggering into a nearby bank of files. His gaze shot to the king. “‘What is the meaning of this’ is precisely the question I have for you, Sire. Is it true you have called a council without notifying the Twenty?”
“You forget yourself, sir,” Dorian exclaimed. “The king of Celieria is not the servant of the Twenty, nor must he beg permission to see to the duties of the monarchy.”
“What duties could include a select handful of lords and yet be of no concern to the Twenty?” Sebourne shot back. His scathing gaze raked past Dorian and shot towards the open doors, only to freeze at the sight of the Fey. “Ah, I see.” His brows rose with mockery and a sneer pulled back the corner of his mouth. “I should have known. For whom would you subvert the lawful ruling order of this country except the Fey?”
“Sebourne!” Dorian exclaimed. “You will beg my pardon this instant and apologize to the Feyreisen for your rash remarks.”
Sebourne drew himself up to his full height. The rich velvet of his fur-lined robes swirled about him. “The Hells I will. Those immortalrultshartscan go flame themselves before they hear a word of apology from me. What are you up to now, Tairen Soul? Come to enslave more weak Celierian minds?”
