Chapter Seven #3
Before taking his arm, she adjusted a golden chain at her waist and curled the fingers of her left hand around the black hilt of a blade sheathed at her hip.
Only then did she place the fingers of her right hand on his wrist in the manner he had taught her.
If there were to be danger, she and her Fey’cha would be ready for it.
Even as the gesture took him aback—no Fey woman would ever lift a blade against a living creature—gentle amusement and pride mingled inside him.
His Celierian shei’tani might be foreign and far too young, but her spirit was fierce.
She would not cringe from the possibility of trouble; she would meet it with steel.
As Rain, Ellysetta, and her parents made their way through the palace, Rain looked more closely at the dagger in his shei’tani’s grasp. His brows climbed skyward as he recognized the identifying mark carved into the black pommel. “You have made a conquest, I see.”
She blushed faintly. “Belliard gave it to me,” she admitted. “In some sort of Fey ceremony. He said I should always look to you to be my first protector, but that he would always be my second. It’s all right that I accepted the knife, isn’t it?”
“Aiyah,” Rain agreed, frowning. Bel had blood-sworn himself to her?
?That’s what I was trying to tell you, Rain. She touched me and wished me joy, and now my heart weeps again.?
?What?? What Fey warrior wouldn’t blood-swear himself to a woman who could lift the weight of centuries of death from his soul with a single touch? But who was his shei’tani that she would have such power? Even Marissya—the strongest of the Fey shei’dalins—could not work such a miracle.
Rain turned to Ellie’s parents. “Is there a history of magic in your families? Fey blood, perhaps?” Fey had intermarried with Celierians in the past.
Sol shook his head. “No, Laurie and I are both pure mortal. Simple folk from simple stock.”
“Not so simple. You have produced a Tairen Soul’s shei’tani. That has never been done before in all of Fey memory.”
The Baristanis looked at each other, then back at him. “Oh, no,” Sol informed him. “Ellie’s our daughter, but she’s not of our blood.” The woodcarver quickly related the tale of how he and his wife had found the infant Ellie in the woods of Norban, a week’s journey north of the Celierian capital.
“There was no sign of a parent? Nothing to identify where she came from?”
Sol shook his head. “Nothing except a note asking someone to take her. She was just there, sitting under a tree. I don’t think she’d been there very long when Laurie found her.
She was awake, but she wasn’t crying.” He smiled fondly at his adopted daughter.
“She was a solemn little waif with big green eyes and the brightest hair you’ve ever seen.
Laurie and I didn’t think we could have children, so we took her in.
Not that we had much to offer. Poor as mice we were.
My hands had been crippled in an accident. I didn’t think I’d ever carve again.”
“But your hands have healed.”
“Yes,” Sol agreed, grinning and flexing his fingers. “Better than ever.”
“And the little girls with the brown hair? Are they adopted also?”
“No. Lillis and Lorelle are ours. Ellie’d been with us almost fifteen years when we were blessed with the twins. She was almost as happy as we were. She’d been wanting her own little sisters to love.”
“You enjoy good health?”
“The best. Hardly ever even get the sniffles.”
“And good fortune.”
“We do well enough. We’ve never been rich, but we’ve never lacked for anything either. And now that we’ve received a royal commission, we’ll not lack for money to dower our girls. We’re simple folk with simple needs. And we’re happy. That’s all that really matters in the end, isn’t it?”
“Aiyah,” Rain murmured. “Happiness is a fortune beyond compare.” He glanced at Bel and the other Fey and saw comprehension dawning in their eyes.
?Bel, send two men to Norban. Perhaps someone there knows more.
? Bel nodded, and Rain turned his attention back to Sol and Lauriana.
“So, you took in an abandoned child. After that, your hands, which were crippled, were healed. Your wife’s womb, which was barren, bore fruit.
You have enjoyed excellent health and happiness, and you’ve never lacked for anything you truly needed.
And when you needed a little more, you received a royal commission.
Have there been any other small miracles since you took her in? Any other dreams that have come true?”
“We’ve always said she was our good luck charm, but surely you’re not implying that Ellie . . . No. These are coincidences. Nothing more.”
“Any one on its own might be a coincidence. But taken all together, with Ellysetta also being a Tairen Soul’s shei’tani, it can be no coincidence.” The slender hand covering his wrist jerked. Rain caught it in a loose grip before she could pull away.
“What are you saying? That she’s Fey?” Sol asked.
“Fey? Possibly. Magic? Most definitely.”
With a yank, Ellie pulled her hand free, crossing her arms and stuffing her hands in her armpits where he could not reach them. “I’m not magic. There’s not a magic bone in my body. If there are miracles here, it’s the work of the gods, not me.”
“Do not fear what you are, shei’tani. It is a wondrous thing.”
“No. I’m Celierian. Just plain mortal like my parents. I’m no different than they are.”
“Las. Peace, Ellysetta. I do not mean to upset you.” The frightened, almost frantic look in her eyes reminded Rain of the desperate fear that radiated from an animal as he swooped upon it in tairen form. “I don’t understand why you would fear your magic so.”
“What Celierian wouldn’t?” That bitter question came from Lauriana.
“How many magic-blighted forests do we have, thanks to you and the rest of your kind? How many dark places to trap unwary travelers?” Her mouth turned grim.
“Sol and I both knew what it meant when we found Ellie abandoned in the woods. She was born in the dark lands, infected with magic left over from the Mage Wars. But neither of us could bear to leave a child to die, so we took her in and did our best to raise her in the Light and keep her safe from magic and magical creatures.” She gave her husband a hard look.
“You were compassionate, indeed, to take her in despite your fears,” Rain replied. “But rest assured, she possesses no mere remnant of magic, dark or otherwise. Her power is bright and shining and very strong.” It had to be, or she could never have reached Bel’s heart.
“Arrogant Fey rultsharts. Think they can come in and take whatever they want. Thrice-damned soul-scorched sorcerers.” Den Brodson sat at the bar of the Charging Boar pub and glared into his nearly empty pint of dark ale.
“Another pint of Red Skull, Briggs,” he growled as he downed a swallow of what was already his third pint in half a bell.
“Make that two.” The smooth, accented voice behind him brought Den’s head around for a quick, assessing glance. The newcomer, a foreigner wearing a blue sea captain’s coat, smiled slightly and gestured to the barstool beside Den. “May I?”
Den shrugged. “As you like.”
The man straddled the barstool. “I couldn’t help overhearing your story. The young woman claimed by the Tairen Soul—she was yours?”
“My betrothed. At least she was until that damned Fey sorcerer stole her from me.” Den flicked another appraising glance over the foreigner, noting the man’s oiled curls, woven with gold rings, and the dark blue tattoo in the shape of crossed swords high on one sun-bronzed cheek. “What’s it to you?”
“A matter of interest. And perhaps a problem I can assist you with.”
“What makes you think I need any help?”
The man held Den’s gaze steadily, and for a moment, Den glimpsed something hard and dangerous in the man’s vivid blue-green eyes. Then the man blinked, and said mildly, “Perhaps I misunderstood you earlier. I thought you wanted the woman back.”
“I do.”
“Then do not be foolish. A powerful immortal has claimed your woman, and the courts have upheld his claim. You cannot possibly hope to stand against him unaided.”
Briggs approached with two pints in hand. The foreigner pulled a money purse from an inside pocket of his coat and extracted a gold coin. “Shall I buy this round?”
Den shrugged again, his eyes watchful. “I never turn down a free pint.”
The man smiled, revealing impressively white teeth. He tossed the coin to Briggs, then held out a hand to Den. “The name’s Batay. Captain Batay. I sail a merchantman from Sorrelia.”
“Den Brodson.” Den shook the captain’s hand. “And just how, exactly, do you think a Sorrelian merchantman can help me best Rain Tairen Soul?”
“Is there somewhere we can speak privately, Goodman Brodson?”
Without taking his gaze from the Sorrelian, Den called over his shoulder, “Briggs, is the back room open?”
“It is,” the bartender replied. “Help yourself, Den.”
Den led the Sorrelian to a small, private room at the back of the pub. As the door closed behind them, he turned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well? How can you help me?”
Captain Batay smiled. “Not I alone, Goodman. I am but the humble servant of a very powerful man. But first, as a gesture of your goodwill—” He pulled a small oval object from his pocket and held it out.
The mirrored surface appeared cloudy at first, but then an image began to form in the misty glass.
A wizard’s glass, Den realized, used for scrying and for recording images.
“—tell me everything you know about this woman.”
The wizard’s glass was clear now, and the image of Selianne Pyerson, Ellie’s best friend, stared up at Den from the crystalline surface.