Chapter Twenty #3
“Oh, ’tweren’t no bother, ser,” the cook assured him. “And here, do take these.” He put the remaining jingle balls inside
the pouch with the rest of the stones. “They’re bound to lose the ones they have. And there’s enough of the stones in here
for a game.”
“Beylah vo. Your generosity does you credit.”
“You’re more than welcome. The children are welcome to come play with the other kittens whenever they—” He gulped. With a shimmer of magic, the Fey had simply . . . disappeared.
Leaving Lord Darramon’s bewildered cook turning in confused circles, Kieran raced after Kiel and the girls. As soon as they
crossed the threshold of the Spirit weave, he dropped his invisibility weave and stormed towards the girls.
They were cuddling their new kittens happily, but their pleased expressions faded when he drew close. They had never seen
him angry, and at the moment, he was as furious as he’d ever been in his life. Anything could have happened to them. Anything!
“Get upstairs to the manor. Your father is going to hear about this.”
Now they looked worried. As well they should.
Though Kieran had never in his life laid a harsh hand on any female, the mortal idea of a swift, hard paddling was sounding
more appealing by the moment! He marched the girls up the long, winding roads of Teleon and into the manor house.
Sol met them at the front entrance, his face creased with worry. “What is it? What’s happened?”
“The girls decided this was a good day to take a walk in the fields beside the outpost.”
Sol’s brows climbed up to his hairline. “They . . . what?”
The girls tumbled over each other to explain about the kittens and wanting to pick the right ones and how everything had turned
out for the best. Sol’s expression grew grimmer with each word. Before the children even finished their explanation, he snapped,
“Be silent! Go into the parlor and sit. Do not dare to speak another word!”
Chastened and fearful in a way they never were with Kieran and Kiel, the twins burst into tears, shuffled past their father,
and ran into the parlor.
When Kieran and Kiel would have followed, Sol held up a hand. “I’m going to ask you to remain out here. I need a few chimes
in private with my daughters.” He closed the parlor door.
Standing outside in the hallway, Kieran and Kiel both heard the blistering lecture Sol delivered to his reckless daughters. They heard the scrape of chairs, Lillis’s and Lorelle’s remorseful weeping, then four loud smacks followed by even louder weeping.
A moment later the parlor door opened, and Sol stepped aside to let Kieran and Kiel enter.
Despite his earlier desire to spank the girls himself, Kieran felt his heart almost break at the sight of Lillis’s tearstained
face. Nei, he could never have done it. Not even for their own good.
Lorelle’s eyes were tear-bright, but her small jaw was set and her arms crossed. When she saw Kiel, she blinked and spun quickly
to give him her back.
Kieran sighed, his anger gone. There was no need to chastise them further. He knelt by Lillis’s side, pulled her to his chest,
and let her cry until all her tears were gone. Kiel just stood silent behind Lorelle until her spine bent enough for her to
turn and lean against him.
When at last they were both quiet and calm, he asked, “How did you get outside the weave without being seen? I am not angry
at you. But I do need to know which Fey were not watching as they should.”
“It wasn’t their fault.” Lillis sniffed. “We didn’t let them see us.”
Kieran frowned. “What do you mean?”
“We made them not see us,” Lorelle said.
Kiel’s eyes widened and he shared an astonished look with Kieran. “You . . . you made yourselves invisible? Like Kieran and
I do?”
“No, not like that. It’s more like we made everyone look somewhere else,” Lorelle said. “Besides, you and Kieran are never
really invisible. You go all purple and glowy, but we still see you.”
Kieran rocked back on his heels. “You see our Spirit weaves.” Mortals could not see magic. Maybe a hint of great magic, but
nothing so simple as an invisibility weave. Not unless they possessed considerable magic of their own.
“Mama made us promise never to tell.” Lillis looked up at him earnestly.
Sol grabbed for the back of a nearby chair as his knees started to give out. “You . . . your mama knew you could see magic?”
Lillis nodded. “We saw hers once, and she made us swear we would never tell anyone—not even you or Ellie.”
Sol’s wooden pipe fell from his shaking hands and cracked in two on the stone floor. “Your mama . . . had magic?” Sol’s voice
trailed off weakly.
“She made a fire stop in the kitchen when we were five.” Lorelle bent down to pick up the broken pipe and handed the pieces
to her father.
“She glowed shiny red when she did it,” Lillis added.
“She was so afraid when we asked her about it.” Lorelle shook her head. “She even cried.”
“So we knew we had to pretend we were just like everyone else, just like Ellie and Mama did.” Lillis gave Kieran a hopeful
look. “Can we can stop pretending now? We’re tired of it.”
“You mean you’re tired of it.” Lorelle sniffed. “You’re not as good at it as me.”
“Oh, yes, I am,” Lillis shot back. “Nobody ever guessed about me, not even Love when I was holding her.”
“Girls,” Kieran interrupted. They both wiped the scowls off their faces and looked up at him, a pair of sweet innocents. He
felt the tug of love and affection, as he always did when the twins turned their big, soulful eyes upon him, only this time,
for the first time, he felt something else too. The tiniest thread of . . . influence. A faint ephemeral weave of illusory
compulsion, coming from them. “Why don’t you both stop pretending right now. About everything. Would you do that for me?”
Lillis and Lorelle turned to their father. “Can we, Papa?”
The woodcarver nodded mutely.
Kiel stepped closer, his blue eyes filled with unveiled interest. “What is it you’ve been hiding, little Fey’cha?”
Ellysetta’s sisters shared a final look, then shrugged and said in unison, “This.” The illusion of unprepossessing mortality dropped from them like a discarded candle shade, and while the children didn’t suddenly blaze like the Great Sun, they did very noticeably . . . glow.
Kieran caught his breath in shock and wonder. Their skin was softly luminescent, almost Fey in appearance. And cupped in the
hollow of her palm, each twin held a small, leaping, twirling sphere of magic: Red Fire and green Earth in Lorelle’s hand,
white Air and blue Water in Lillis’s.
The Fading Lands ~ Dharsa
Gaelen caught the downward sweep of his opponent’s seyani longsword between his two meicha in a lightning-fast move, locking the curved blades tip-to-hilt. One swift twist of the blades, and his opponent’s blade
whipped out of his hands and fell to the ground.
“Tairen’s Bite,” he growled to the disarmed man. “You know the move, and you know how to protect against it, but you’re still
too slow.” He sheathed his scimitars and bent to scoop up the other man’s sword. “Practice, Char. Have one of the Earth masters
fly sparring-swifts for you. When you can strike down a dozen all at once without a single feather laid upon you, you’ll know
you’re improving.”
The Fey, flushed after an exhausting several bells of training, nodded and bowed to Gaelen as chadins always bowed to their chatok at the end of a lesson.
Gaelen bowed back, then pivoted on his heel.
And scowled when, across the field, a warrior’s legs suddenly shot out from under him and the Fey went sprawling backwards
into the dirt, swearing. Fey laughter pealed out, and a Spirit master popped out of thin air. Gaelen muttered and rolled his
eyes. He was going to regret teaching that weave to certain Fey.
Just this morning, he’d squelched the contest some of the Spirit masters were holding to see how many chatok blades they could pinch without being discovered.
Fortunately none of them had pinched his.
Or had they? he thought with a frown when an odd flicker of awareness prickled his nerves.
He quickly checked his steel to make sure it
was all there and all real, then let out a short, relieved breath. It was.
A flutter of color from the corner of his eye made him turn, and then he realized what had set his senses tingling. Ellysetta
was waiting on the observation dais at the edge of the field. He jogged towards her, dodging tumbling bodies and slashing
swords as he wended his way to the observation dais. As he drew closer, his tingling senses turned into full-blown alarm.
She was pale and drawn. ?Vel Jelani.? He sent the curt call instantly, one lu’tan to another, and leapt up onto the dais to kneel at her side. “Kem’falla, you are not well?”
“I’m fine. I . . .” Her gaze flickered to a point over Gaelen’s right shoulder. Bel was sprinting across the field. She stood
abruptly. “I’m sorry. Never mind. Please forget I came.” She spun away and hurried back towards the Academy doors.
Concerned, but solicitous, Gaelen waved Bel off and followed. “Ellysetta.” He caught up with her just inside the hallway.
“What is it? Clearly, something has you upset. Here.” He opened the door to one of the training rooms where young chadins learned tumbling and hand-to-hand combat. “Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in private.”
She bit her lip and stared at the open door, her body poised for flight. “Nei, really, I should go. This was a mistake.”
He caught her arm before she could turn away. “Kem’falla.”
She froze.
He snatched his hand back as if the feel of her skin burned him.
He rarely touched any Fey woman. He’d spent too many years living as an outcast whose touch could cause empathic women excruciating pain.
Even though that was no longer the case, he’d not laid a hand so carelessly on a Fey woman in over fifteen hundred years.
These last several weeks had made him forget himself.
“Sieks’ta. Forgive me. If you wish to leave, of course you may go. I will not try to stop you. Just remember that I am your lu’tan. If there is anything you need—if there is anything at all that is troubling you—you have only to tell me and I will do everything
in my power to put your mind at ease.”
She hesitated again. “Gaelen . . . I . . .”
The hesitation seemed to invite persuasion. He accepted with alacrity. “If it was important enough for you to come here, it
must be important enough to discuss. Tell me what’s wrong.”
She shook her head. “It was wrong of me to come. This is my problem to solve.” She clasped her hands together and began to
pace. “I was being selfish even to think of it. Look at you. You have a chance for a new life. A good life. Your honor has
been restored. The Fey are beginning to accept you. You have a chance to look after Marissya and watch her son grow to manhood . . .
to live the life that could have been yours if the Mage Wars had never happened. I can’t ask you to put all that at risk.”
Then, of course, he knew. How could he not? He’d been waiting for it since the day she’d revealed what was killing the kitlings
in the egg.
“You want me to teach you to weave Azrahn.”
She stopped pacing and met his eyes, her expression one of dismay and regret. “Yes.”
The tairen’s roar and whoosh of wings made Bel look up into the sky. His brows drew together in puzzlement at the sight of
Steli flying away from Dharsa bearing Ellysetta and a warrior who looked like Gaelen on her back.
He started to turn his attention back to his training when the sight of Tealah waving at him from the observation dais stopped
him. “Carry on, Fey,” he commanded, and jogged over to see what she wanted.
The shei’dalin’s face was pinched with worry. “Is Ellysetta here? Is she all right?”
“She just left. Why?” he asked. “What’s happened?”
“Sareika vol Arquinas saw her running out of the Hall of Tairen, looking as if she’d seen a ghost. And she says Shei’Kess
was glowing . . . the way it does after a prophecy.”
Bel glanced up at the rapidly disappearing shape of Steli in the sky, and he began to run.
In the training room that Ellysetta and Gaelen had vacated, the perfectly executed patterns of Gaelen’s invisibility weave
dissolved, revealing the stunned face of Tael vel Eilan.
He’d followed Gaelen off the training yard, determined to be the Spirit master who won the greatest prize of the day—a blade
from Chatok vel Serranis’s own sheath. Only, instead of prized steel, Tael clutched a belly that threatened to hurl its contents at any
moment.
The Feyreisa had asked Gaelen to teach her to weave the forbidden magic.