Chapter Eleven #4
“Do they not? They eat when they are hungry, sleep when they are tired, and kill their enemy without doubt or regret when
he threatens them. Do you know how calming that is?”
“To kill your enemy?”
“To have no regrets.”
She turned in his arms and lifted her face to his. The shadows were back in his eyes, the memories of all those who had died
in his flames. She stood up on the tips of her toes to kiss him, then bent her head to the hollow of his throat, and they
stood there together, on the edge of the precipice, alone above the world as the cool winds of the high mountain swirled around
them.
“I hesitate to ask what we’ll be eating. I’m not particularly fond of raw herdbeast.” She tilted her head at the grazing animals
so far below.
His eyes crinkled, not quite a smile but close. “Nei, I would not think so. Though I must say, to a hungry tairen, tavalree on the hoof is a choice morsel.”
With a casual weave of Earth, he spun a table and two chairs out from his chambers to the cliff’s edge, then wove a small
basket containing food, a corked vessel, and a pair of golden goblets. At her surprised look, he confessed, “I keep a small
store of food stocked in one of the caves below with a protective weave to ensure freshness. I don’t always want tavalree when I come here either.”
The food was simple fare: a block of cheese, round loaves of flat, golden bread, and several of the tear-shaped tamaris fruits.
Rain uncorked the bottle, poured a stream of crystal-clear water into the two goblets, and offered her one.
A sip confirmed it was faerilas. “From Dharsa,” he said in answer to her questioning look.
He pushed a plate of food towards her. “Enough talking. Eat. Your
body needs nourishment to replenish its strength.”
Ellysetta reached for a round of bread, then layered slices of cheese on top. The first bite was heavenly. The cheese was
creamy and flavorful, the bread a melting delight. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was, but once the food hit her tongue,
ravenous appetite took over. She devoured the meal in a few quick, voracious bites, and moments later found herself staring
in bewilderment at empty hands sticky with tamaris juice. How had that happened?
Rain laughed softly. “Hunger comes upon you quickly when you weave magic for so many bells.” At her confused frown, he elucidated.
“Your singing. You were weaving love and courage on the kitlings through your song. Even Sybharukai was impressed. In many
ways, your weave imitated tairen song.”
“I didn’t realize.”
“You never do, it seems, when you are weaving great power.” He helped himself to the remaining portion of the food and leaned
back in his chair as he took a few bites. “I’ve been thinking about that since we left Celieria City. The circumstances of
your birth forced you to use your magic more as instinct than a controllable skill, Ellysetta. While that served you well
in its time, the practice appears to have conditioned you to trust your powers only when you do not know you are weaving them.”
She sat up straighter, a bit offended. “I’ve been weaving magic. All those bells spent with Marissya on our journey here,
when she was teaching me how to heal, I wove magic—powerful magic. What would you call that?”
“Frustration.” When she crossed her arms and her eyes flashed, he hurried to add, “I am not dismissing your efforts, shei’tani, but you’ve been trying to pour the force of an ocean through the mouth of a stream.
And when you cannot forget how vast and potentially dangerous that ocean is, your powers either dam up or overwhelm you. ”
“So you think I can’t control my magic because I fear it?”
“I think, shei’tani, you have feared what you are for so long, there’s no room in your heart for trust. And until you trust yourself, you will
find it difficult—if not impossible—to control your magic . . . and impossible for us to complete our bond.”
“So what’s your solution?”
“The same as it is for a chadin of the Cha Baruk. Practice. And much of it. Some things cannot be learned by any other means. As you gain confidence, your
fears will diminish.”
“So who will teach me this confidence?”
“I’ve been thinking about that, too.” He sat back, plucked a Fey’cha from the straps across his chest, and began twirling
the blade on his fingertips, razor-sharp steel and black hilt flipping end over end, the pinch of his fingers so perfect the
knife edge never broke his skin. “Until our bond is complete, I cannot merge with your mind the way a chatok must to guide your learning. The shei’dalins will teach you to wield a shei’dalin’s gifts, but you are a Tairen Soul as well. There are skills you need that no shei’dalin can teach you.”
Ellysetta watched the steel flashing in his fingers. The blade was a mere blur now.
“The mentors of the Warriors’ Academy are masters of magic as well as war. They are our most skilled teachers—and all of them
are mated, which will make it easier for me to allow them close to you.” He caught the black Fey’cha in midspin and returned
it to its sheath. “I will ask one of them to be your chatok and teach you the ways of Fey magic.”
“You want a warrior to teach me to wield my magic.”
His eyes lifted, and Ellysetta’s mouth went suddenly dry. Thick black lashes framed gleaming pale purple irises that were
just beginning to glow. Instantly she was reminded of his expression when he’d stood beside her in Chakai as she healed the
rasa.
“Want? Nei. But it’s what you need.” He stared down at the table, where his thumbnail had just dug a deep groove into the finish. A muscle
ticked in his jaw. Green Earth flared briefly, and the groove filled back in. “If our bond were complete, I would teach you
myself, but it is not.” His shoulder lifted and fell. “If there were another Tairen Soul, I would ask him, but there is not.
It must be a chatok from the Academy. They are the only ones who can teach you what you need to know.”
She leaned across the table and put her hands on his. “There is no need for you to torment yourself, Rain. You are my shei’tan, the man I dreamed of all my life. My heart has no room for another.”
“When it comes to some things, shei’tani, tairen do not listen to reason.”
“Do they not?” She slipped out of her chair and sat on his lap, looping her arms casually around his neck. “Perhaps they just
need convincing.”
She smiled as the tense brackets around his mouth eased and the glow of his eyes grew more pronounced—and much warmer.
“Perhaps you’re right,” he purred. “Why don’t you try it and see?”