Chapter Ten #4
Danae water sprites who delighted in luring unwary mortals to watery graves.
?She brings song back to your heart,? Sybharukai observed.
“Aiyah.”
?You no longer wish for your own Fire Song.?
Rain met Sybharukai’s eyes. “Nei, I want to live.” Until that night when he’d flown along the borders of Eld, the tairen had never discussed how he’d longed for death after Sariel’s murder, but of course, all the pride had known.
They had accepted his desire. Tairen mated for life.
But they had always known he would not seek death until his responsibilities to the Fey and to the tairen were met.
Sybharukai purred and stretched, flexing her claws. ?Ellysetta-kitling is a better mate for you than the other.?
“She is my shei’tani. Sariel was e’tani.” The tairen had never called Sariel by name. Always, she had been “your mate” or “that one.” And now, apparently, “the other.”
?The other was friend, but not tairen.?
Rain glanced at Sybharukai in surprise. It was unusual for the makai to be so talkative. “Nei,” he agreed. “Sariel was not tairen, but Ellysetta is.”
The great cat’s ears flicked. ?She smells so, but her song does not sing to us. We cannot choose her sorreisu kiyr or lead her through First Change until
we know her song.?
“Perhaps she does not yet know how to sing. The Celierians never could have taught her.”
?Tairen sing in the egg. There is no need to teach.?
“But she is tairen. I saw it in her eyes. She hears my song.”
?Yet you do not hear hers.?
He frowned, perplexed. No, he had never heard her song. He’d seen the tairen in her eyes, he’d felt its power coiling inside
her, witnessed its devastating fury, but he’d never heard it sing. “Nei,” he said slowly. “I thought perhaps I had not heard it because our bond is not complete.”
?You hear the songs of the pride.?
“Aiyah, I hear all the pride, but we are not mates. I hear the thoughts of all the Fey, too, but until Ellysetta and I complete
our bond, I can hear only the thoughts she deliberately sends to me. Perhaps her song works the same way.”
?We do not hear her either. She is . . . ? Sybharukai abandoned words and sang a series of notes that summoned the image of a tangled net of string with tairen kits
diligently tugging at the loose ends, only to tangle the string even more.
Rain nodded. “Aiyah. I could not have said it better.” Ellysetta was a conundrum, a fascinating mix of innocence, astonishing power, and countless
secrets that taunted him with their presence while remaining stubbornly concealed.
?When you return to the Fey-lair, the tairen will fly with you and sing pride-greetings to Shei’Kess for your mate, since
she has no song of her own.?
His jaw dropped open. The tairen had not entered Dharsa since before the Mage Wars. “Why would you do that? You didn’t even
come to ask the Eye for help saving the kits.”
Sybharukai sniffed. ?Why should we have gone then? We sent you.?
He blinked, nonplussed. They’d sent him? Nearly a month ago, in an act of sheer desperation, he’d laid bare hands on the Eye of Truth in an attempt to wrest
answers from it. The oracle had not been pleased. Now, Sybharukai implied that she’d somehow been responsible for his actions.
His eyes narrowed. “Did you put the idea of confronting the Eye of Truth in my head?”
She extended her claws and began sharpening their tips against the rock. ?You are pride. You knew our need. You did what was necessary when the time was right.?
Rain gave a short laugh and shook his head. That nonanswer was answer enough. The Fey would never dream of using their magic
to manipulate other Fey, but the tairen had never pretended to be so civilized. They were not tame and did not live by the
laws of those who were. “And Ellysetta? Why would you sing pride-greetings for her? What are you not telling me?”
Sybharukai heaved a breath and flapped her wings. Tairen might be wild, wicked, and unpredictable, but like the Fey, they
never lied. ?Ellysetta-kitling smells tairen,? she finally said, ?but she smells of something else too.? Her eyes closed, and a low purr hummed in her throat. ?Old magic.?
He sat up straight. “What kind of old magic?”
Sybharukai’s purring ceased. Her bright green eyes opened and her claws dug into the rock. ?The scent is too ancient. This tairen’s pride-memory does not go back far enough to name it, but Shei’Kess will know. Shei’Kess
keeps the memories of all the prides.?
More ancient than Sybharukai’s pride-memory? The possibility shocked him. Sybharukai was makai of the Fey’Bahren pride. She herself had lived more than two thousand years, and her pride-memory stretched back to the start
of the Second Age, passed on from each dying makai to her successor.
A loud splash interrupted him before he could ask. Steli had entered the water and was paddling beside Ellysetta’s ledge,
snorting sprays of water. Ellysetta gave a tiny scream of surprise that broke into laughter, and she swept her arm across
the water’s surface to direct a retaliatory splash back at the playful tairen.
Steli’s play surprised Rain. The tairen of the Fey’Bahren pride had never offered Sariel anything but aloof disregard and
tolerance, yet here was Steli treating Ellysetta like a tairen kitling. Even without hearing Ellysetta’s song, Steli and the
others accepted her as one of the pride.
Fahreeta leapt into the water, sending a massive splash arcing though the air. The golden tairen gave a crowing roar of victory
as her wave swamped both Steli and Ellysetta, then dove beneath the surface as Steli gave chase. Ellysetta watched, laughing.
Rain turned back to Sybharukai, intending to continue their conversation, but the makai of the Fey’Bahren pride had risen to her feet and was padding down towards the rim of the lake.
?Enough talk, Rainier-Eras. Time for play.
? With an impressive roar, Sybharukai jumped in.
The rest of the pride soon followed, and within moments, the lake was filled
with wet, playful tairen.
Knowing he would get no more answers today, and unwilling to be left out of the pride’s fun, Rain stood up, stripped off his leathers, and dove smoothly into the warm, clear waters to join them.
Merdrahl and Cahlah were gone, but their suffering was over.
The Fire Song had awakened a sense of joy and renewal in them all, and he, like his tairen family, could spare time for a little happiness before resuming the battle with the darkness that threatened them all.
Celieria City ~ The Royal Palace
Lady Jiarine Montevero, lady-in-waiting to Celieria’s Queen Annoura, leaned closer to the clear glass mirror and dabbed a
thin layer of fresh white powder over the dark circles beneath her eyes. She hadn’t been sleeping well since the disappearance
of Queen Annoura’s Favorite, Ser Vale—the sinfully handsome, vivid-eyed courtier Jiarine knew and served as Kolis Manza, the
Elden Mage to whom she had surrendered her soul in return for wealth, power, and noble advancement.
Eleven days without sleep—worrying not so much about Master Manza’s fate as her own—was beginning to show on her face, and
she could not afford for that to continue. Queen Annoura of Celieria did not tolerate less than perfection amongst the Dazzles
of her inner court. Ser Vale might return, and he would not be pleased if she’d lost her increasingly favored position in
Annoura’s inner circle due to something as foolish as lack of attention to her appearance.
Jiarine pinched her cheeks, then deftly added a blushing hint of color from a pot of pink powder. She was wearing her hair
its natural dark color today. She’d just received word that the queen was feeling peevish this morning. When that was the
case, her inner court knew to abandon their hair powders and choose rich, dark shades of clothing, the better to set off the
queen’s silvery pale beauty and improve her mood.
Muttering a curse, Jiarine kicked the hem of the pale blue gown she’d already put on, then removed this morning. “Fanette!” she called to the young lady’s maid she’d sent into the next room to press her deep sapphire gown. “Hurry up with that gown, girl! Her Majesty does not tolerate tardiness.”
Turning back to the mirror, she reached down into the cups of her tightly laced corset and plumped her breasts so the rouged
nipples peeped out over the lacy tops. She knew how to use her assets to the best advantage, and there were several influential
lords who liked to see a hint of rose when Lady Montevero leaned their way.
If Master Manza didn’t return, Jiarine had her own plans for advancement. Starting with becoming the next Lady Purcel. The
old wheezer was rich as a king, and though his breath stank like a barracks privy and his lecherous hands loved to pinch and
grope any young woman fool enough to walk within reach, she’d happily ride his withered old rod straight into his grave in
return for access to his coffers and control of his lands. Besides, he was so old, it wouldn’t be hard to arrange a timely
death for him in the event frequent and enthusiastic copulation didn’t do the trick. And thanks to that weave-driven night
of lust two weeks ago, Purcel had already sampled Jiarine’s wares and knew they were to his liking.
The bedchamber door opened. “Finally! What in the Dark Lord’s name took you so—” Jiarine’s voice broke off at the sight of
the two unfamiliar men who stepped into the room. She grabbed the first thing within reach—a cushion—and held it to her chest.
“Who are you? How dare you! Get out this instant!”
Both were dressed as nobles, but she had lived at court for the last three years and recognized neither of them. The taller
of the two was a handsome, lean man with forest-green eyes. The shorter one was built like a barrel-chested longshoreman from
the wharf. His pale blue eyes, surrounded by stubby black lashes, swept over her with undisguised interest.