Chapter Five #2
He was so proud, so sad in his aloneness and the dark sorrow that drowned all light in his eyes.
She had thought him frightening and incapable of gentle feelings, and he had just proved her utterly wrong.
Sorry for her part in hurting him, wishing she could take the shadows from his eyes, she reached out to touch his face, her fingertips gentle against his cheek and jaw.
“I pray the gods grant you the peace and happiness you deserve,” she whispered, meaning it with every fiber of her being.
Her flesh tingled, and he flinched beneath her hand, his eyes widening.
To her amazement, Belliard vel Jelani dropped to one knee, bowed his head, and in a shaking voice declared, “Of my own free will, Ellysetta Baristani, I pledge my life and my soul to your protection. None shall harm you while in life or death I have power to prevent it.” He drew one of the small, black-handled knives from the straps across his chest and slit his palm.
Fisting his sliced hand, he held it over the blade and allowed six drops of blood to fall on the shining steel.
“This I do swear with my own life’s blood, in Fire and Air and Earth and Water, in Spirit and in Azrahn, the magic never to be called.
I do ask that this pledge be witnessed.”
“Witnessed,” Kieran agreed, his smile gone.
“Witnessed,” the other three Fey echoed with like solemnity.
The blade in Belliard’s hand flared bright for an instant.
He rose to his feet and offered Ellie the knife, hilt first. “Your shei’tan will always be your first protector,” he told her, “but know that I will always be your second. So I have sworn. So it is witnessed. Take this Fey’cha as proof of my oath and keep it with you always.
If you ever have need of me, simply let a drop of your blood touch the blade.
No matter where I am or what I am doing, I will know you need me, and I will come. ”
She took the knife with hands that shook. “I don’t pretend to know all your oath entails, but I know you have done me a great honor. I will strive to be worthy.” She turned to hurry upstairs.
When she was gone, Belliard turned to his brother warriors. Tiny, nearly imperceptible tremors were shaking his body. He touched his cheek, still feeling the warmth, the very subtle yet incredibly strong power that had moved from her fingertips to him.
He had so much death on his soul that all but the strongest women among the Fey had avoided touching him centuries ago, unable to bear the pain of his sorrow, the ruthlessly self-enforced emotionlessness, and the dark burden of the lives he’d taken to protect the Fey.
Even the shei’dalins only touched him when they needed to heal wounds he gained in battle.
Yet this child, this incredible child whose soul called a tairen’s, had reached out to touch him and sent a flood of healing warmth and love so strong that it burned straight through the block of black ice that encased what remained of his gentle Fey emotions.
He looked at Kieran, Kiel, Rowan, and Adrial. They could not feel what he felt, but they could hear his thoughts, and as Fey warriors they would understand. ?My heart weeps again,? he told them, nodding when their faces mirrored his astonishment. ?She is more powerful than any of us suspected.?
Aloud he added, “She’s no Celierian. On this I would stake every blade I own.”
Queen Annoura strolled down the stone walkways that wound through the palace’s vast, manicured gardens.
She’d woken early to greet the Tairen Soul and attend to the most pressing of her day’s correspondence while breaking her fast. Duty would call her to service again soon, but she refused to forgo the pleasure of her regular morning walk.
The members of her Queen’s Court followed a few paces behind, noble young Sers and Seras chosen as much for their beauty as for their family connections.
Annoura was no insecure queen forced to fill her court with Drabs in order to look beautiful by comparison.
She was herself a Brilliant, and she insisted on surrounding herself with nothing less than Dazzles to set off her own beauty to its best advantage.
Of course, she also had her inner circle of Favorites, the small knot of courtiers selected as her confidants for their wit, shrewdness, political connections, and loyalty.
Chief among her current circle was the delicious, sultry-eyed Ser Vale, a breathtakingly handsome nobleman whose palpable aura of sensuality made Annoura envy ladies for whom infidelity was not an act of treason.
He’d joined her court as a Dazzle late last fall, but his entertaining wit and keen intelligence had raised him swiftly to her inner circle.
He walked beside her now, elegant as always, his hair powdered the same pale blue as his form-fitting silk breeches and matching gold-and-silk-embroidered velvet doublet. He wore an alluring scent today, something deep and mysterious, teasing Annoura with hints of wicked, forbidden pleasure.
He was not at all impressed with the news of the Tairen Soul’s truemate. “A woodcarver’s daughter, My Queen? A commoner?”
“The Fey do not share our appreciation for the purity of noble bloodlines, Ser Vale, you know that. The Tairen Soul claims she is his truemate, and he will not give her up.” She kept her voice low, her words private between them.
“The girl is betrothed to another and bound by a claiming mark, yet he insists we set aside her lawful marriage contract.”
“It is an outrage against Celierian sovereignty. The king will, of course, refuse.” There was earnest surety in his voice and in his thickly lashed blue-green eyes.
“No,” she said. “I doubt that he will.”
“You cannot mean it!” Vale stopped in his tracks, drawing the attention of the surrounding courtiers.
“Surely His Majesty would not truly allow this . . . this Fey sorcerer to install a peasant—one of your own subjects, no less—as his queen? To raise up a common woodcarver’s daughter as the equal of you, Queen Annoura of Celieria, in whose veins flows the world’s most noble royal blood? ”
“You go too far, lordling,” Annoura snapped. “It seems I erred in raising you from Dazzle to Favorite so quickly if you think she could ever be my equal.” Her skirts snapped as she resumed her walk at a brisk pace.
“My Queen!” Vale hurried to catch up with her. “Your Majesty, forgive me.”
She glared at him. “He may call her his queen and seat her on the Tairen Throne, but there is much more to being my equal than the mere possession of a crown and a title.”
“Of course, Your Majesty. I did not mean to suggest that I would ever believe otherwise. You are the Moon of Celieria, a Brilliant who outshines the Mother herself. And I hear this Celierian girl isn’t even a Gem. Little more than a Drab.”
Annoura arched a haughty brow. “Now you imply I am threatened by her looks?”
“Never, My Queen. You know my devotion belongs to you alone.”
His hand brushed hers. An onlooker might believe it was an accidental touch, but Annoura knew otherwise. Her eyes narrowed.
“I am pleased to hear that at least.” She brought the hand he had touched to her waist, out of further reach. “I am not benevolent to Favorites who betray my trust in them, nor am I a queen who shares the devotions due her.”
“Your Majesty, it is not I who would claim her to be your equal. I but think how others outside of Celieria might view these unprecedented events.”
Annoura kept her expression blank, but she was troubled by the suggestion that anyone might consider this upstart soon-to-be queen of the Fey equal in power and stature to Annoura of Celieria.
She had spent the last two and a half decades building renown for the elegance of her court and the power of her husband’s kingdom.
She would not lightly share or lessen her position in the world.
Especially not for some Drab of a woodcarver’s daughter.
“The girl’s fate is out of my hands. The king will not deny Rain Tairen Soul his truemate.
” There was more. The girl’s betrothed had petitioned the King’s clerk for a special license to wed her immediately.
The Feyreisen had been in a rage when he’d found out.
He’d actually threatened war if Dorian did not revoke the license and dissolve the betrothal.
The arrogance of Rain Tairen Soul’s demands still infuriated Annoura.
Celieria was a sovereign nation, its laws inviolable.
But Dorian—ever the coward when dealing with his magical kin—would not stand firm.
Another time, Annoura might have confessed some of the details to Vale, but he had irritated her with his insinuations, so she said merely, “The House of Torreval has long supported the traditions of both Celierians and Fey.” She turned back to the palace.
“I believe I have walked long enough this morning. I shall return to the palace.” When he made to follow her, she stopped and leveled a hard, cold glance upon his handsome face.
“Your attendance is not required today, Ser Vale.” She lifted a hand and gestured to one of her newest young Dazzles, an exquisite blond lordling who’d been vying for her attention these last few months.
“Ser Nilas. You may escort me back to the palace.”
“My Queen!” The young Ser bowed so low, his golden forelock brushed the ground.
Vale bowed as well, but his eyes, vibrant and burning, held her gaze with a boldness that belied his calm acceptance of her dismissal.
At a quarter before ten bells, the Baristani family, clad in their best clothes, arrived at the royal palace.
At least eighty Fey surrounded the carriage that conveyed them, with Ellie’s quintet running alongside the conveyance as it rolled through the palace gates and up to the wide steps of the palace’s grand entrance.