Chapter Eighteen #2
“Must a border lord of Celieria now be bribed to defend the march? I do my duty, Sebourne! What of you and your cronies? Or has the glint of Eld gold erased all hope of reason?”
Sebourne’s supporters once more leapt into the fray, pointing fingers and hurling accusations. Teleos and half a dozen others jumped up to rally round Cann.
Annoura’s Master of Affairs handed her the clerk’s note. She cracked the seal and glanced at the three simple words scrawled on the parchment: We have him.
She glanced back at Vale, whom she’d invited to serve in place of one of her regular attendants, who’d fallen ill. He was watching her, his vivid eyes intense. He gave a faint nod.
The bell rang again. “Silence and be ordered!” This time Dorian barked the command himself. “Lords, take your seats and be silent!” When the nobles subsided into grumbling compliance, Dorian turned back to Cann. “Lord Barrial, where does your allegiance lie?”
Cann stiffened his spine. “Where it always has. With you, sire, and with Celieria.”
“Have you now or ever accepted any form of payment or reciprocity from either dahl’reisen or Fey in return for political favors?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Have you now or ever put Fey or dahl’reisen interests above those of Celieria?”
“Never, my liege. I am, first and foremost, a Lord of Celieria.”
“Lord Sebourne, since you leveled the accusation, I will ask you directly: Do you have any evidence to prove Lord Barrial is in the service of the dahl’reisen or the Fey?”
Scowling, Sebourne muttered, “No, sire.”
“Then the only thing the revelation of Lord Barrial’s ancestry proves is that he and I are distant cousins. I will hear no further accusations against him without evidence. Not even by intimation.” Dorian’s gaze came to rest on Annoura.
She arched a brow. “Then perhaps we would be best served directing our questions to Gaelen vel Serranis, himself.” She turned cold eyes on Marissya v’En Solande. “Since my guard just arrested him here in the city, in the company of Ellysetta Baristani and the Fey.”
The Council Chamber erupted.
A trio of white-robed acolytes emerged from the cleric-hall as Ellysetta rose from the cushioned bench before the altar of Adelis. The young boys filed up a small, spiraling stone staircase to a tulip-shaped balcony overlooking the luminary and began to sing.
Their voices rose up like silvery beams, carrying freely through the cathedral’s vaulted nave, enhanced and amplified by its carefully engineered acoustics.
“Stand, Ellysetta Baristani,” Greatfather Tivrest said, “and follow me to the luminary to offer Adelis your final devotions before the Bright Bell.”
Gathering the folds of her linen skirts, she rose and circled round the altar rail to join the archbishop. As her fingers slid into his, she opened her senses and deliberately allowed his thoughts to flood into her. She even, gods forgive her, dared to skim his mind.
A barrage of focused, determined thoughts greeted her probing.
Shine your radiance upon her, oh, Lord. Banish the darkness from her soul.
Guide her in the Bright Path and help her stand fast against the shadows.
Shine your radiance upon her, oh, Lord. Over and over the thoughts were repeated, and the only image in the archbishop’s mind was of a bright, blinding light.
What she’d been expecting, Ellysetta really couldn’t say, but she couldn’t find anything dangerous or threatening in his dedication to saving her soul.
He led the way to the round, raised platform of the luminary and escorted her up the thirteen steps to stand on the large engraved golden medallion at the luminary’s center, directly below the cathedral’s great golden dome and the spire that housed the statue of Adelis.
“Look up, daughter,” he said, “and let the glory of the Bright Lord illuminate your path.”
She tilted her head back. Above her, the interior of the cathedral’s great dome had been painted to look like a summer sky, and the illusion was nearly perfect.
A golden disk gleamed at the dome’s center.
As she watched, a pinpoint of light formed at the center of the disk.
It widened rapidly, and a beam of light shot down from the center of the dome, enveloping Ellysetta and the archbishop in a shower of golden-white radiance.
“Kneel, daughter, and say your devotions.”
Ellysetta knelt in the shining warmth of the luminary and felt her skin soak up the light.
It tingled in her flesh, almost like magic.
She closed her eyes and turned her face skyward towards the source high above.
“Adelis, bless me. Keep me always in the Light. Shine your brightness on my path so I may never lose my way.” Help me, Lord, she added silently.
Grant me the courage and strength to defeat the evil that hunts me.
“Marissya, Dax, Annoura—in my private chamber. Now!” King Dorian surged to his feet and swept towards the private room at the back of the Council Chamber in a billow of ceremonial robes.
Fury etched his every step as he stalked away.
He barely waited for the door to close before whirling on the three of them.
“Is it true?” He glared at his ancestral aunt and her mate.
“Have you been harboring the Dark Lord here in Celieria City, beneath my very nose?”
Marissya reached out. “Dorian, I—”
“Answer the question, damn you! And don’t bother trying to weave peace on me. It will not work!”
“He came last night,” Dax admitted. “But it’s not what you think.”
“It’s not what?” Annoura challenged. “Aiding an enemy of the crown? Abetting the murder of innocent Celierian civilians? Or do you still expect us to believe that the Eld, not the dahl’reisen, are responsible for the Celierian deaths in the north?”
Marissya and Dax exchanged guilty glances.
“Oh, gods,” Dorian exclaimed. “He did do it. He did it, you knew it, and yet you said nothing.” He stared at the pair of them as if he’d never seen them before.
All his life he’d adored and idolized his legendary Fey relatives.
He’d loved them even more than he’d loved his own parents.
All his life he’d believed in one absolute: the honor and truth of Marissya v’En Solande.
“Dorian—” Marissya began.
“Be silent!”
“But, Dorian, the ones Gaelen killed were Mage-claimed. He swore it—by Fey oath, under shei’dalin touch.”
For a moment Dorian’s disbelief wavered. Fey oaths were inviolable and could not be sworn on a falsehood. And a Fey oath sworn under shei’dalin touch ensured that not only the words but the spirit of the oath were honest and true.
“A dahl’reisen swore a Fey oath?” Annoura sneered. “Under shei’dalin touch? Don’t take us for such fools.”
Dorian’s jaw clenched. The brief moment of uncertainty was wiped away.
“Annoura’s right, Marissya. As you’ve told us many times before, dahl’reisen have set themselves beyond the bounds of Fey honor.
Any oath of theirs is meaningless. And even if it weren’t, the Fey would never let a dahl’reisen lay hands on a shei’dalin of the Fading Lands and live.
” His eyes narrowed. “Unless all that has been a lie, too.”
“Fey don’t lie,” Dax stated, glaring. “We may not tell you everything we know, but what we do reveal, you can be assured is truth.”
“How can I believe that now? You’ve both just been caught in open deception.”
“Gaelen did swear a Fey oath, Dorian,” Marissya interjected. “And he did swear it under shei’dalin touch—my touch. Ellysetta restored his soul. He is Fey once more.”
Dorian gaped at her. “That’s not possible.”
“Until last night, I would have agreed with you. Such a miracle is beyond a shei’dalin’s power—certainly beyond mine.
But apparently, it’s not beyond the power of a Tairen Soul’s truemate.
” She took a step towards Dorian. Tears shimmered in her blue Fey eyes.
“Last night, for the first time in a thousand years, I stood in my brother’s presence.
I embraced him. And I touched him with these hands”—she held up her hands—“while he swore a Fey oath that what he told us was true.”
Doubt crept into Dorian’s eyes once more. She looked so earnest, filled with such profound joy, he wanted to weep himself.
Annoura grabbed his arm and yanked him away from the shei’dalin. “Leave us, Fey!” she barked. “I will speak to my husband alone. Without your sorcery influencing him.”
“Without my—?” Marissya choked back whatever words were on the tip of her tongue.
She took a deep breath and visibly controlled her temper.
“Dorian,” she said in a much calmer voice, “kem’jita’taikonos.
” Grandson of my sister’s line. The appellation tugged at Dorian’s emotions.
She hadn’t called him that in a very long time, not since he’d ascended the throne after his father’s death.
“Everything I’ve told you is true. I would never lie to you, and I would never try to manipulate your thoughts.
Everything I’ve ever done has been to protect and help you, as I protected and helped your fathers before you.
As I hope to protect and help your sons after you. ”
“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” Dorian muttered, turning away from Marissya’s outstretched hands and entreating eyes. “Please, do as my queen says. Leave us.”
Marissya’s fingers curled in loose fists, and her arms fell back to her sides. Dax put a hand on her shoulder. “Come, shei’tani.” He gestured. The door leading back to the Council Chamber opened, and he escorted her through.
When they were gone, Annoura caught Dorian’s hand.
“You know you cannot believe anything the shei’dalin said.
She lied about the Dark Lord. She hid him from you, here in your own palace, the seat of your power.
The place you call home. She did that even knowing her brother was murdering Celierians in the north.
You can’t afford to fall for her shei’dalin tricks. ”