Chapter Seven
Beyond life there is hope
A hope that all of them have lost
But a new Tairen Soul has been born
All prayers have been heard
And time would not escape again.
Together two hearts will fight
To break the chain of immortal darkness
A New Hope, by Vardis Merrin, Celierian Poet
Celieria City
With Ellysetta flying overhead on Rain’s back, the warriors ran flat-out.
They crossed the remaining thousand miles of Celierian farmland in three days and reached the edge of King’s Wood at dawn of the fourth.
Beyond the wood lay the creamy walls and tiled rooftops of Celieria City, gleaming against a backdrop of blue sky and forested hills cloaked in vivid autumn hues.
Having lived in this city for most of her life, Ellysetta should have felt a sense of homecoming, but instead, as the signal pennants unfurled on the tower ramparts to alert all the city guard to the Fey’s approach and crowds began to gather and stare up at the tairen in the sky, she felt more like a visitor than a daughter of Celieria.
The feeling grew stronger as each beat of Rain’s wings brought them closer to her former home, and a strange heaviness fell over her.
Too many bad memories, she supposed. The bright-eyed Fey Dajan dying from demon-touch in her family’s home.
Selianne disappearing in a blaze of blue-white Mage Fire.
Father Bellamy and his exorcism needles.
Mama gasping her last good-byes as she clutched the sel’dor blade that pierced her heart.
Rain sensed her distress. ?Would you prefer to stay outside the city with the lu’tan, shei’tani? If it is too difficult, we can stop here, and I will go speak to Dorian alone.?
She leaned across the saddle front to stroke the soft fur at the base of his neck.
?Nei. I will be fine. Some memories are sad, but there are others that bring me joy.
? To ease them both, she concentrated on filling her mind with those happier recollections: working in Papa’s shop while he turned a simple piece of wood into a gleaming masterpiece of art; laughing with Selianne over Kelissande Minset’s pompous airs; playing stones with Lillis and Lorelle in the park beside the Velpin River; sharing a moment of peace and contentment with Mama as they recited their devotions to the Bright Lord.
Rain flew over the west wall as the Fey passed through the West Gate’s portcullis and loped down the broad, cobbled avenue that ran east-to-west across the city.
They turned north, following the city’s main thoroughfare to the elegant square of shops and craftsmasters’ workrooms crowded in the shadow of the royal palace.
Street urchins chased in the footsteps of the Fey, and curious passersby gathered on the sides of the road, reminding Ellysetta of the day she’d first met Rain.
Had that really only been a few short months ago?
It seemed like entire lifetimes had passed since the day a woodcarver’s shy and awkward adopted daughter had called a Tairen Soul from the sky.
Her hands clutched the raised front of the saddle as Rain tucked his wings and dove towards the royal palace.
He Changed in middive, and she slid effortlessly down a draft of Air.
Earth magic swirled about her during the descent, transforming her studded red leathers into a silken scarlet gown and silver steel underdress.
She landed lightly at the base of the palace steps, surrounded by the ring of her quintet and lu’tan.
The bloodsworn Fey’cha of her quintet hung in a silver girdle at her hips; a single purple silk belt affixed with sheathed Fey’cha crossed over her chest; and the slight, humming weight of a crown fashioned from whorls of silver studded with Tairen’s Eye crystals nestled in her unbound hair.
In a final burst of magic, Rain re-formed at her side, tall and majestic, clad from head to toe in the golden war steel of the Fey king.
Several of the courtiers regarded her with dazed eyes and open mouths, dazzled by the unveiled power of her shei’dalin magic. Several others, however, kept their eyes averted, and their cold, suspicious thoughts sliced at her like knives.
Fey witch. How dare she spin her wiles so openly on the lords of Celieria?
Look at her. Look how shamelessly she ensorcels those weak-minded fools.
These Fey are not to be trusted. If we do not resist them, they will use their magic to enslave us all.
She reached for Rain instinctively, and the horrible thoughts she’d inadvertently picked up from the courtiers flowed from her mind to his.
The trouble that had been brewing in Celieria City when Rain last visited had clearly not dissipated in the ensuing months.
If anything, the air of discontent seemed more obvious, but she wasn’t sure if that meant the sentiment was stronger or merely that she’d become adept at perceiving it.
?Perhaps I should veil myself. The last thing I want to do is cause more trouble between Celieria and the Fey.
? Ellysetta had refused to don the traditional scarlet veil that shei’dalins wore outside the Fading Lands.
After a lifetime of having her true nature repressed by a powerful glamour, she was through hiding who and what she was.
Rain’s glittering lavender eyes fixed on the averted faces of the courtiers whose thoughts had disturbed her. ?You should do no such thing. Certainly not just to put these foul-minded rultsharts at ease.?
If the ugliness of the Celierians’ thoughts weren’t so unpleasant, she would have laughed.
Back in Orest, he’d practically begged her to veil herself whenever Lord Teleos’s men gazed upon her with Light-drunk devotion.
But now that she faced unkindness rather than dazzled adoration, tairen possessiveness had darkened to something much more dangerous.
?They wound your heart.? The telltale growl was back in his Spirit voice. If he were still in tairen form, he would be spouting flame. ?It is unacceptable.?
?You cannot punish them for thoughts, Rain.
Nor stop them from thinking what they like.
? She knew it was foolish to give these strangers—arrogant courtiers, no less—the power to hurt her.
There would always be those among them eager to find fault with her.
And perhaps if she’d lived a life filled with self-confidence, she would not care what they thought.
?They are afraid. Magic can be too easily misused. ?
That was the crux of the matter. These nobles’ suspicions struck her most vulnerable spot, and she could not so easily dismiss them.
All her life, people had eyed her askance, waiting for the Shadow inside her to spring free.
Now these mortal nobles reviled her because they suspected her Light hid a darker Shadow.
And no matter how badly she wanted to deny it, she feared they were right.
Some part of her self-doubt must have shown on her face or touched his senses, because Rain’s voice snapped in her mind like a whip. ?You are bright and shining. The darkness you sense is the Eld, not you. You must never think otherwise.?
His arm snapped up, and he wordlessly offered her his wrist. He fixed an unflinching gaze on King Dorian X, who stood at the top of the palace steps, Great Lords and councilmen by his side.
Together, she and Rain mounted the steps, and as they drew closer to the king, a new concern set her senses tingling.
The king did not look well. She remembered him as a pleasant man with warm eyes and a friendly smile, but the last months had aged him.
His skin was pale beneath its Celierian summer bronzing, silver liberally threaded the hair at his temples, and circles dark as bruises lay beneath his eyes.
Deep lines were etched from the corners of his nose to his mouth.
More disturbing than his wan appearance, however, was the gray shadow that lay over him, dimming his Light.
Her first thought was that the Mages had done something to him, perhaps even Marked him.
Little could usher in the destruction of Celieria more surely than if the king became a puppet of the Mages.
?Shei’tani?? Rain nudged her with a gentle swell of Air. They had reached the top of the stairs and were now standing before the king. All eyes were on them, and she was staring at the king like a ninnywit.
?Sieks’ta.? She bent quickly to match Rain’s half bow in a ruler’s courteous acknowledgment of another’s sovereignty.
When she straightened again, the shadow over Dorian had disappeared.
He still looked tired and worn, but otherwise perfectly normal—and even when she dared to open her empathic senses and probe him gently, she discovered nothing more than weariness and deep concern over the troubles facing his country.
“Greetings, Dorian, King of Celieria,” Rain said when they straightened. “With joy, my queen and I return to the city she called home for many years. We thank you for greeting us so warmly despite our unannounced visit.”
“My Lord Feyreisen, you need no announcement.” With grave sincerity, Dorian returned the half bow.
“The king of the Fey and his queen will always be welcome as long as a descendant of King Dorian I and Marikah vol Serranis Torreval sits on Celieria’s throne.
” Though he did not take his gaze from Rain’s face, Dorian raised his voice enough so that all the courtiers gathered on the palace steps could hear him clearly, and Ellysetta saw several of them stiffen at the reminder of their king’s own Fey blood.
Rain stepped forward and lowered his voice. “We bring important news. Is there a place we can speak in private?”
Without hesitation, Dorian said, “Of course. Please follow me.”
“Your Majesty.” A spare, thin-lipped man in fussy silks and satins stepped forward, disapproval stamped on his features.