Chapter One #4
But then, as suddenly as the call had come, it fell silent.
Confused by the abrupt termination of the connection, Rain faltered in mid flight.
His fury was still there. Licks of flame still curled from his muzzle and venom pooled in the reservoirs in his fangs, but his rage had lost its focus.
The woman’s fear and desperation were gone, no longer fueling his wrath.
Banking right, he circled the sky and reached out with his mind, trying to find the one who had called.
He found nothing but silence and the worried calls of the Fey warriors he’d left behind.
Then the even more worried call of Marissya.
The warriors he might have ignored, but not Marissya. All Fey men were bound to protect the females of their race, even from worry.
?Rain?? Marissya didn’t try to hide the concern in her mental voice. She was a mere century older than Rain, had known him all his life. She was his friend. ?What happened??
?She called out to me. She was afraid.?
?Who??
He hesitated. ?I don’t know.? Keen tairen eyes pierced the night. Far away in the distance, he saw the glow of Celieria. ?But I’m going to find out.? He dipped one wing and banked again, heading towards the city in the distance.
Ellie sat at the dinner table and couldn’t stomach the thought of putting food in her mouth.
The terrifying anger and the disturbing sensation in her skin had passed almost as quickly as they’d come, with none but Ellie the wiser.
Though she could have sworn the parlor had actually trembled, no one else appeared to have sensed it.
Was she going mad? Had the demons that had haunted her youth found a different, more subtle way to work their evil on her?
Ellie knew not to let herself get upset. All her life, she’d worked to keep her emotions in check lest she accidentally trigger another seizure. She forced herself to take deep, even breaths, and filled her mind with calming thoughts.
Still, as she glanced at her mother from beneath her lashes, she couldn’t quell a spurt of anger and resentment as Lauriana made pleasant small talk—small talk!—with Den Brodson. How could Mama even contemplate wedding Ellie to that odious rultshart?
Did Mama know what Den had been doing in the parlor?
She must have known. She’d made a series of intentionally loud noises before coming back in.
What had that been all about except to let Den know he should stop his assault on Ellie?
He had, thank the gods. With a final wet kiss and a last painful squeeze of her breast, Den had released her and said, “You’ll do, Ellie.
” As if she were a haunch of beef he was approving from the slaughterhouse.
Ellie’s relief at being freed had rapidly turned into a sense of betrayal. How could Mama know what Den had been doing and not be outraged? Surely Mama didn’t know about that awful pink slug of a tongue.
Outrage and resentment clashed inside her. She was not going to marry Den Brodson. Not now. Not ever. Anger flared, quick and hot.
Suddenly there was a feeling in her mind. A probing touch, as if someone or something was trying to reach inside her head. She had a distant sense of scarcely banked fury and a stronger sense of something powerful rushing towards her with grim purpose.
Ellie’s spoon clattered to the table. Everyone looked at her in surprise.
“Ellie?” Papa’s brown eyes radiated concern. “Are you all right, kit?”
She put a shaking hand to her head. “I—I think so, Papa.” The feeling was gone. Had it been her imagination? Another sign of impending madness? She forced a wan smile and tugged at the neck of her chemise. “I mean, yes. I’m fine. Just a little tired.”
“What’s that on your neck?” Lorelle was staring at the spot where Den had bitten Ellie’s neck, the spot that Ellie had unwittingly just revealed.
In an instant, everyone was staring at Ellie’s neck. Embarrassed, she clapped a hand over the spot. She hadn’t looked in a mirror. Had Den left a mark on her?
Apparently so, because her father was now staring hard at Den.
That shameless klat just smiled his smug smile and met her papa’s gaze straight on.
Mama’s eyes darted from her husband to her daughter’s suitor.
There was a look in Mama’s eyes that made Ellie’s heart stutter.
Embarrassment faded—even fear of what was happening to her faded—as worry slithered up Ellie’s spine.
“Girls,” Papa said. Ellie had never heard his voice sound so emotionless, so hard. “Go to your rooms.” The twins jumped to their feet and scurried out. “You, too, Ellysetta.” He didn’t look at her, didn’t take his unblinking gaze from Den’s.
Ellie did not immediately obey. Did her parents not know what Den had done to her, after all? Was it possible that they hadn’t left her alone with him in the parlor for that very reason?
“Papa?”
“Go!” he barked, and Ellie all but fell over herself rushing from the room. She raced for the stairs and took them two at a time, not slowing down until she was ensconced in the safety of her small bedroom.
Needing to know exactly what sort of mark Den had left on her, she went to the small dressing table tucked in the corner of her room.
Her fingers shook as she struck a match and lit the oil lamp on the table.
Soft golden light filled the room. Ellie leaned close to the mirror, tugging the neck of her chemise to one side to reveal a small, dark, oval mark at the base of her throat.
In the golden glow of lamplight, the mark looked like a smudge of soot.
She rubbed at it, but it didn’t come off.
She felt invaded somehow, violated, and suddenly very afraid of what was going on downstairs.
She sat on the edge of her bed, and waited. She didn’t know how long she sat there. It seemed like bells before she heard the creak of the stairs and the slow clomp, clomp of her father’s boots. She rushed to her bedroom door and pulled it open.
“Papa?”
There was disappointment and sadness in his eyes when he looked at her. “Go to bed, Ellysetta. It’s getting late.” He looked tired and worn. Old.
“But, Papa . . . about Den.” What could she say? She couldn’t very well tell her father about the embarrassing things he’d done to her. “I . . . I know Mama thinks he’s a good match, but, Papa . . . I don’t like him. Please, I don’t want to marry him.”
Her father stared at her for a moment, then shook his head and turned away. “Go to bed. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“But, Papa—”
He just continued walking down the hall and into his room, closing his bedroom door behind him.
Ellie returned to her own room and undressed in shadowy darkness, hanging the green gown and her mother’s chemise in the small wardrobe resting against the wall. She didn’t want to wear either of them again as long as she lived.
After donning a cotton nightdress, she sat down beside the window and unpinned her hair.
It spilled down her back in long, springy coils.
Brushing it with steady strokes, she stared out at the night sky.
Both the large moon called the Mother and the small moon called the Daughter were three-quarters full. It was a bright night.
Please, she prayed silently, fervently, hoping the Celierian gods would hear her. Please send me someone else. Anyone else but Den. She laid the brush in its place on her dressing table and crawled into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin and closing her eyes.
She didn’t see the shadow fall across her room as the light from the Mother was blotted out by a large black tairen winging through the night. She didn’t see the lavender eyes, glowing like beacons, turn their light upon the rooftops of Celieria. Searching. Seeking.