“It is Azrahn that lets us offer them that haven,” she added. “We spin it in our shield weaves to hide our presence from the Mages. We use it to detect Mage Marks and know who is a real danger to us, and who is not. Most of us here in the village possess at least some ability to spin the soul magic, and we are not evil.” She gestured to the room at large. “These children are not evil.”
“Why would Gaelen not tell us about you?” Ellysetta asked, her stunned gaze roving over all the little faces.
“All of us have sworn a blood-oath never to reveal information about our village and our children. The Eld would slaughter us. The Celierians would burn us out. The Fey would never acceptdahl’reisenback within their borders, and none who live in this village would ever settle in a place where our men are not welcome. We are outcast, and keeping our secrets ensures our safety.”
“Then why show us now?” Ellysetta asked.
Before Sheyl could answer, a childish laugh rang out, and a tiny voice cried, “Again! Again!” Ellysetta gasped and clutched Rain’s hand in a tight grip. She stared in disbelief at the face of a child she’d loved dearly and never thought to see again. “Rain, that’s Bannon!”
The son of her best friend, Selianne Pyerson, was dressed like a village child and playing with the other toddlers. She sent a frantic gaze towards the other end of the room, where the infants were, searching for another sweet face dominated by the big blue eyes so like Selianne’s. “And Cerlissa!” Cerlissa, Selianne’s baby, had grown so much in the last four months, but the chubby-cheeked infant, sitting on a rug, playing with blocks, was most definitely Selianne’s daughter.
“You know Bannon and Cerlissa?” Sheyl asked.
“Their mother was my best friend. She died trying to protect me from the Mages.” After Selianne’s death, when the Fey found her husband murdered and her Elden mother hanging from a knotted cord, Gaelen had promised he would take Selianne’s children to a safe place where they would be welcomed despite the Mage Mark set upon them by the Mages who’d killed their mother. “Gaelen said he would take them to a safe place, but he wouldn’t tell us where.”
“They were taken in by a couple who lost their own child to alyrantlast year.”
Ellysetta bit her lip. The children were obviously happy and well tended, but—“Please, may I see them?”
“Of course.” Sheyl signaled, and two of the village women collected the children and carried them across the room to Ellysetta.
“Bannon! Cerlissa! Oh, I’m so happy to see you both!” The baby Cerlissa chewed her fingers and laughed in delight. Bannon, however, regarded Ellysetta with no hint of recognition in his solemn blue eyes. But of course, she looked like a stranger to him. He’d only known Ellie, the woodcarver’s daughter, never Ellysetta, the Feyshei’dalin.
She spun a quick Spirit weave, transforming in an instant to the plain mortal Ellie Baristani she’d been when they’d known her. “It’s me, dearling,” she told him. “It’s Auntie Ellie.” She knelt before him and held out her arms. “Auntie Ellie, Bannon. Don’t you remember?”
When he still looked confused, she reached into the pocket of her apron where she’d always kept a little treat for him when she went to see Selianne. She pretended to gasp in surprise, “Oh! What do I have here in my pocket?” Another quick weave spun from her fingertips, and she pulled her hand out to brandish a tiny, painted wooden horse just like the ones she used to coax her father into carving for Bannon.
The little horse and the once-familiar custom of Auntie Ellie’s magical pocket of treasures sparked a memory. A tiny smile curved the boy’s lips, revealing a mouthful of pearly baby teeth. He reached for the horse and fell into her arms to give her a kiss, and say, “Thank you, Auntie Ellie,” as he had so many times before.
Her arms closed around him, holding him tight, and she squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that welled up at the sound of his sweet voice. “Oh, Bannon.” She cupped the back of his head in one palm and stroked her fingers through his baby-fine hair. Holding him again was almost like having Selianne back. She didn’t want to let him go, and even when she set him down so she could take Cerlissa in her arms, she kept stroking Bannon’s back and hair.
She wanted to keep them with her. She wanted to take them with her now. But they’d been taken in by a couple who’d lost their own child… and she and Rain were headed back to war—with no guarantee that either of them would survive it.
No matter how much she ached to keep Selianne’s children with her forever, this was where they belonged. So she held them and smiled her brightest, despite the threat of burning tears, trying to squeeze months of love into a handful of chimes.
Watching her, Rain’s heart swelled with a mix of love and sorrow. She would be an exceptional mother. Even in the guise of her mortal self, the joyous warmth of hisshei’tani’sdeep capacity for love shone bright as a star. She deserved children—far more of them than evenshei’tanitsamatepairs ever had. And once she forged the last thread of their bond to complete theirshei’tanitsaunion, he would do everything in his power to see that Amarynth bloomed eternally in her footsteps.
“Sheyl,” he murmured, as hisshei’tanicuddled her friend’s children. “You said you had a favor to ask of us.”
“I’m sure you’ve already guessed, Tairen Soul.” Sheyl clasped her hand at her waist. “The world grows more dangerous every day. War has begun, and it will only get worse. Thedahl’reisenwill fight to defend the Fading Lands as they have these many past centuries, and our village will be left vulnerable. Will you grant safe harbor to our women and children while our men fight the Eld?”
“Aiyah.”There was no hesitation, no other possible response. “You cannot weave Azrahn within our borders, of course. And the Mists will not permit thedahl’reisento enter, but your women and children—even your men who are notdahl’reisen—will be welcomed with joy.”
“And will you give me your Fey oath on that—and vow that we will all be free to leave again—even the children?”
“Of course.”
“Then I have one last secret to show you.”
Sheyl led the way to the back of the nursery and opened a door to a smaller adjoining room. Several young children were gathered round a short table, squishing lumps of clay into shapes with their small fingers.
“Muri,” Sheyl called. “Come here, kitling. There are some people I want you to meet.”
“Sheyl! Sheyl!” One of the children, a chubby toddler with bright blue eyes and masses of dark ringlets ran forward, her little arms extended.
A smile softened Sheyl’s face, and she knelt to scoop up the child. “Hello, dearling.”
“Look what Muri made.” The girl held up a piece of dough shaped in a lumpy, four-legged mass. “Horsie!”
