Chapter One
“Ellie, don’t be such a soggy dorn.” Nine-year-old Lorelle Baristani pouted at her older sister.
It was, in Ellysetta’s opinion, an adorable pout.
Lorelle’s out-thrust lower lip was plump and pink, her round cheeks soft as satin, and her big brown eyes heart-tuggingly soulful.
The whole enchanting picture was complemented by masses of mink-brown ringlets, and more than one seasoned adult had been known to abandon common sense in the face of such considerable infant artillery.
Unfortunately for Lorelle, Ellie was made of sterner stuff.
Ellie smiled and bent to kiss her sister’s cheek.
“A soggy dorn, am I? Just because I don’t want to spend the whole day caught up in what’s sure to be the worst crush in the past year?
And for what? To catch a brief glimpse of a Fey warrior as he walks past?
” Ellie shook her head and punched down the bread dough she was making for tonight’s dinner rolls.
Tomorrow was the much-anticipated annual visit of the shei’dalin Marissya v’En Solande. Her arrival was always a spectacle as she and her guard of one hundred fierce leather-and-steel-bedecked Fey warriors entered the city and marched down the main thoroughfare to the palace.
A week ago, Ellysetta would have gone, no matter how long the wait, just for the chance of glimpsing the glint off a Fey blade.
But that was before that disturbing nightmare and before the dark dreams that had continued to haunt her ever since.
When she woke each morning, her skin felt tight, her muscles inexplicably sore and weary, as if each night she fought a battle in her sleep.
As if she were fighting to keep something out . . . or worse, to keep something in.
Memories flashed—of horrifying convulsions racking her body, Mama’s fear, the Church of Light exorcists with their fervent, shining eyes and merciless determination to drive the demons from her soul.
She shuddered from the awful memories and quickly sketched the sign of the Lord of Light. No, all things considered, now was a bad time for her to go anywhere near the Fey and their powerful magic.
“Besides, I’m busy tomorrow,” she told Lorelle, grateful for the genuine excuse. “Lady Zillina ordered an entire new suite for her receiving room, and Mama wants me to get started on the embroidery for the pillows.”
“But, Ellie, the Feyreisen is coming!”
Ellie’s breath caught in her throat. The Feyreisen? Despite her well-founded fear of magic, she’d dreamed all her life of seeing Rain Tairen Soul in the flesh.
Then common sense returned, and Ellie cast a stern sidelong glance at her sister. “Who told you that bit of silliness? Everyone knows the Feyreisen hasn’t set foot outside the Fading Lands in a thousand years.” Not since the end of the horrendous magical holocaust known as the Mage Wars.
“It’s not silliness!” Lorelle protested indignantly. “I heard it straight from Tomy Sorris.” Tomy Sorris, son of the printer, was the local town crier and usually well on top of the latest news and gossip.
Ellie was unimpressed. “Then Tomy’s been smelling too much printer’s ink.” She transferred the dough back into its rising bowl and covered it with a damp cloth.
“He has not!” A stamp of one small foot expressed the child’s outrage.
“Well, perhaps he’s just misinformed then,” Ellie replied. If Rain Tairen Soul were coming, they’d have heard about it long before now. The Fey who’d once nearly destroyed the world in a rage of tairen flame wouldn’t simply end his thousand-year exile without someone knowing about it in advance.
With a few quick swipes of a clean cloth, she swept the light dusting of flour off the tabletop into her palm and disposed of it in the waste bin beneath the kitchen sink.
She cranked the sink pump twice and rinsed her floury fingers beneath the resulting cold spurt of water, then cast a glance back over her shoulder at Lorelle.
“Besides, why would the Feyreisen come here? He never had much use for mortals even before the Wars.”
She recalled a story in yesterday’s paper about a small caravan of travelers attacked near the Borders by dahl’reisen, the frightening mercenaries who’d once been Fey warriors before being banished from the Fading Lands for the darkness in their souls.
Would Rain Tairen Soul come to Celieria because of that?
She dismissed the idea instantly. All her life she’d heard tales of dahl’reisen raids—such tales were so common they were used to frighten small children into behaving—but none of those stories had ever lured the King of the Fey beyond the Faering Mists that circled the Fading Lands. No, Lorelle must be wrong.
Ellie untied her apron and hung it on a wooden peg in the corner of the modest, cozy Baristani family kitchen and smoothed slender hands over her serviceable tan muslin skirts.
Her shirtsleeves were bunched up around her elbows, and she tugged the plain cuffs back down to her wrists, unable to stifle a wistful sigh as she imagined a fall of ivory lace draped over her hands.
It was, of course, a foolish daydream. Lace would only get dirty and torn as she went about her chores.
She smiled at Lorelle, whose pout had now become an outright scowl. “Come now, kitling, don’t be cross. I’ll take you to the park instead. It won’t take up the whole day, it’s bound to be less crowded, and we can still have a fine time.”
Lorelle crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t want to go to the park. I want to see the Feyreisen.”
Before Ellie could reply, Lorelle’s twin, Lillis, came skipping into the kitchen, all atwitter.
A mirror image of her sister, Lillis would have been indistinguishable from Lorelle except for the radiant excitement stamped on her face, which contrasted vividly with Lorelle’s dark scowl. “Ellie! Ellie! Guess what!”
Ellie made a show of widening her eyes with exaggerated interest. “What?”
“The Feyreisen is coming, and Mama says you can take us to see him enter the city tomorrow!”
“Ha!” Lorelle exclaimed. “I told you so!”
This time the breath that caught in Ellie’s throat stayed there. Tomy Sorris might have sniffed too much printer’s ink, but Mama was never wrong. Seeking confirmation, Ellie glanced towards the door.
“Mama? Is it true? Is the Feyreisen really coming to Celieria?”
Lauriana Baristani nodded, her fingers deftly untying the bow of her large-brimmed sun hat as she crossed the threshold and entered the kitchen. There was a light of excitement in her eyes that Ellie had never seen before. “It’s true,” she confirmed.
Ellie watched in astonishment as her mother tossed her hat and woven shawl over the back of a nearby chair rather than hanging them neatly on the wooden pegs provided for that purpose.
Her mother was a firm believer in a place for everything and everything in its place.
Something was going on, something that had nothing to do with the unexpected ambassadorial visit from a twelve-hundred-year-old Fey who could turn himself into a tairen.
“Mama?” She picked up the hat and shawl and hung them in their place.
“What is it?” She gave her mother a searching look.
Lauriana was a handsome woman in her mid fifties, with a solid build and strong arms that could help her husband move heavy pieces of handcrafted furniture or hug her children close.
She had the same rich brown hair as the twins, though her soft ringlets were threaded liberally with silver, and her eyes were a pleasant hazel.
Her brown dress was neatly made of sturdy, sensible cloth, and her shoes were sturdy, sensible brown leather to match.
But at the moment, she did not look sensible at all. She looked . . . giddy.
“Oh, Ellie, you won’t believe it!” Lauriana reached out to grasp Ellie’s hands.
“Queen Annoura,” she said, squeezing Ellie’s fingers tight, “sent Lady Zillina to commission your father to produce a special carving in the Feyreisen’s honor.
He’s to have it finished and ready to present to the Feyreisen at the Prince’s betrothal ball!
” When Ellie gasped again and the twins squealed, Lauriana beamed and nodded. “Commissioned by the queen. At last!”
“Oh, Mama,” Ellie breathed. “Papa must be singing with pride!” After ten years as a master woodcarver, Sol Baristani had finally received a coveted royal commission.
When word got out, nobles and rich merchants would be banging down his door to commission his work.
Money, always rather scarce in the Baristani household, was sure to flow into the family coffers.
Lauriana flashed her eldest daughter a devilish grin. “And won’t that just put Madam Rich and Snooty Minset’s knickers in a twist?”
“Mama!” Ellie gasped, giving her mother a shocked look.
Her mother—definitely not her staid and sensible self—laughed out loud, then clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, that was evil. Just evil.”
Ellie couldn’t help laughing herself. It was so unlike her calm, unflappable mother to say something nasty, even about the social-climbing Madam Minset, the banker’s wife.
Though if ever a woman deserved to have something nasty said about her, Madam Minset did—and that went double for her daughter Kelissande.
“But, Mama, why is the Feyreisen coming to Celieria?”
Lauriana shrugged. “No one knows, but it’s sure to be a spectacle.
And I promised Lillis you would take her and Lorelle to see the Feyreisen.
” Ellie stared in surprise, and her mother blushed a little.
“I know what you’re thinking, and this doesn’t mean I approve of Fey sorcerers.
I don’t. Not in the least. But the Bright Lord did select Rain Tairen Soul as the vehicle through which He has delivered this latest blessing upon our family.
I wouldn’t want Him to think us ungrateful. You will take the girls, won’t you?”