“Erimea is the Elvish name for the star Celierians call Selena.”
Her brows drew together in faint alarm. “Selena?” Selena was a seasonal star that appeared low on the horizon just before the first day of Seledos, the winter month dedicated to the God of Darkness, and shone in the sky throughout that ill-favored month when the golden bells of daylight were the shortest of the year. “Why would you call me that?”
“It is what we Elves have always named you. Why does this alarm you?”
“Because Selena is the winter star Celierians call ‘Shadows Light,’ and they don’t mean it kindly. Children born when Selena shines in the sky are considered touched by Shadow. They say those born beneath Selena when the moons are new will be haunted by Darkness all of their lives.” Dear gods…was it possible she had been born on such a night? Was that why the Elves had named her after such an ill-favored star?
Fanor muttered something in Elvish. She didn’t understand the words, but the tone sounded uncomplimentary. “If Celierians believe that, they are fools. Erimea is the brightest light in the winter sky. We Elves call her Hope’s Light, the star that shines brightest when the world is at its darkest.”
Ellysetta glanced uncertainly at Rain.
He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. «Las, shei’tani. Nei siad. Don’t be afraid. Much as I dislike the Elves, when it comes to matters of omens and stars, I’ll take their word over mortal superstition any day.»
When she continued to frown, Rain said, “Enough talking. Time to sleep.”
Fanor took the hint. He bowed and rejoined his men on the other side of camp. Rain patted the space beside him. He’d shed the hard plates of his golden war steel and chain mail and lay in the scarlet padded-silk tunic he wore underneath.
With a sigh, Ellysetta knelt beside him and nestled in his arms, resting her head on his chest. The steady beat of his heart sounded softly in her ear. He gestured and the quintet spun their shielding weaves to protect Ellysetta from her Mage-haunted dreams. Rain added his own five-fold weave to theirs.
“Rain,” she scolded again. “You promised you would conserve your strength. Fanor said a single five-fold weave would be enough to shield my dreams in Elvia.”
“If one is good, then two are better.” He traced the curve of her lips with one finger. “Humor me, Ellysetta. It pains me to see the fear in your eyes when you wake. To know that I cannot protect you from what haunts you.”
She pressed a kiss into his palm. “You are with me. That is protection enough.”
“I will always be with you.” «Even should I die.»
Ellysetta frowned at him. “Really, Rain. You need to stop talking that way.” She shook her head. “Or, rather, thinking that way. You keep thinking about dying, as if you’ve already accepted it as your fate, and I don’t like it.”
A faint flush colored his cheeks. “Sieks’ta, shei’tani. I didn’t realize I’d said it so you could hear.”
“Well, you did, and you shouldn’t.” She propped herself up on an elbow and regarded him earnestly. “The gods listen, Rain. Put a thought out there often enough, and they’ll think it’s what you want.”
“Death is not what I want, Ellysetta. Believe me, even if that’s what the gods have in store for me, I won’t go without a fight.”
“You won’t go at all,” she corrected fiercely. “I won’t let you. I’ll fight every demon in the Well of Souls if I have to.”
To that, he merely smiled and said, “Come here,kem’feyreisa shanis.”
She resisted his efforts to pull her close. “I mean it, Rain.” He could call her his fierce Feyreisa all he wanted, but she wouldn’t be diverted.
“I know,kem’san. I have seen you do it, remember? Now, come here and let me hold you. It’s time to sleep. Tomorrow will be another long day.”
With a sigh, she turned on her side, and he spooned his body around hers. One arm draped across her waist. She snuggled back into his warmth. He’d shed his blades and steel, but the body beneath was nearly as hard as the shell of armor, his long, lean form honed by centuries of training and discipline. Silky, fragrant skin, shining silver in the darkness, was his body’s only softness. The realization comforted her. It was almost as if he were her armor, her living shield against the Darkness that hunted her.
She looked into the Elvian night sky, where silvery stars winked and shimmered against the black velvet of night. Soon, for that one month of the year, when the days were their shortest and nights their longest, Selena—Erimea—would appear, a fierce light gleaming low on the horizon, the brightest star in the darkest winter sky.
But which, she wondered, was the true name of that star? Was it Selena, Shadow’s Light, a dreaded and fearful harbinger of the Dark, as the Celierians believed? Or was it Erimea, Hope’s Light, the Bright Lord’s promise that even in a world grown cold and dark, his Light would still shine triumphant?
And which, she wondered, would she be?
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
A flick of wrists, a seldom miss.
A deadly song, the Dance goes on.
So learn it well, this warrior’s spell.
