Chapter Eighteen #3
The former dahl’reisen met the gazes of his shocked friends with a grim, set jaw and wintry eyes. He snapped a hard glance at Rain. “We should take his memory before he wakes.”
“Take his memory?” Bel protested. “This is his sister you’re talking about. He has a right to know—”
“To know what?” Gaelen whirled on Bel. “That she’s been a captive of the High Mage of Eld for the last thousand years?
Tortured, raped, forced to endure and serve gods only know what sort of evil?
” His lips curled back. “I know what a powerful Fey can do to avenge his sister. Marikah at least died quick. If she had suffered the same fate as Elfeya, and I knew of it, I would have laid such waste to Eld, not even the gods themselves would have been able to redeem my soul. Dahl’reisen?
Bah! I would willingly have become the blackest soul of the Mharog and gorged myself on blood and death. ”
Violence raged just below Gaelen’s surface—not hot, as Rain’s Rage was, but deadly, icily cold. Only his will kept the power of that Rage from spilling over in a freezing wave.
“Tajik is almost as powerful as I am. If he wakes remembering that the Eld took his sister, all the magic in the world won’t keep him from trying to reach her—or seeking his vengeance for what’s been done to her.
I may not like vel Sibboreh very much, but I’ve no mind to see him walk the path I tread.
Do you?” He looked around. No one could hold his challenging gaze without looking away.
“Take his memory. One day, he will thank you for it.”
“He is right,” Gil said.
Rain’s jaw tightened. “Aiyah.”
“Anio.”
Five warriors whipped their heads around and bared their teeth in a snarl at the Elf king. “Stay out of this, Elf,” Rain bit out. “You have done enough.”
“This is his verse in the Dance,” Hawksheart insisted. “Elfeya is my kin, and more beloved to me than you know, but what has happened—no matter how brutal—was her verse. Her captivity had to happen just as it did. And her brother must have that knowledge.”
“Scorch your flaming Dance,” Gaelen growled. “For a thousand years, you’ve watched the torment of your own cousin and done nothing to help her—even knowing her shei’dalin powers made her helpless to defend herself. There are not words enough to describe the contempt I feel for you.”
Hawksheart lifted his chin. “I understand your feelings.”
“Well, I don’t understand yours.” Bel’s voice was colder than Ellysetta had heard it in months.
He sounded like the rasa he’d been when she’d first met him: dead to emotion, perfectly capable of murdering without a qualm.
Perfectly capable of slaughtering Hawksheart right now.
“How could any man who claims to be dedicated to Light willingly surrender his own cousin to the Dark as you have done? You let her be taken, and did nothing to save her.”
“You think I am a monster, but what happened to Elfeya had to happen.”
“Why?” Gil snarled.
Hawksheart clamped his lips shut and did not answer. His piercing eyes turned to mirrored stones, hard and aloof. But one betraying flicker in Ellysetta’s direction—one fleeting glimpse of searing, all-revealing agony—made her heart rise up in her throat.
And then she knew. She knew why Elfeya and Shannisorran v’En Celay—her birth parents—had been left to suffer the Mage’s torments for the last thousand years.
She knew why Hawksheart had stood by and let it happen, though he’d internalized his cousin’s torment and made it his own, suffering each day as if he were the one imprisoned.
“Because of me,” Ellysetta whispered.
“What?” Rain turned to her, outraged. “Do not even suggest such a thing. You have nothing to do with this. You weren’t even born!”
“And if my parents had not been captured by the High Mage of Eld, I never would have been. At least, not as I am. Not as the Dance needed me to be.” Her voice was soft but sure, her unwavering gaze pinned on Lord Galad’s face.
The sorrowed closing of his brilliant, haunted eyes confirmed her suspicions.
“I wouldn’t have been a Tairen Soul. I wouldn’t have been your truemate. ”
Rain drew back in horror and muttered an instinctive shei’tan’s denial. “Of course you would have. Our bond was created by the gods, not some Elden Mage.”
“But without the Mage, I wouldn’t have a tairen’s soul tied to mine. That part of my soul wouldn’t exist, and that part of your soul would have no mate.” She glanced back at Hawksheart. “What will I do that is so important to the Dance that so many people had to suffer so much?”
“I’ve already told you. You were born to decide the fate of this world—to secure it for the Light or plunge it into eternal Darkness.”
“But if I hadn’t been born, I wouldn’t be a threat. You could have stopped my birth simply by preventing Shan and Elfeya from being captured and tormented for a thousand years. Why didn’t you end it then?”
“You don’t understand. You are not the threat, Ellysetta Erimea.
You are the gift the gods sent to combat it.
A powerful Light born of terrible Darkness.
You are the sword that cuts both ways, forged in a crucible of pain and suffering, hammered on the anvil of dark magic, and tempered by the love and sacrifice of both mortal and immortal parents, of your shei’tan, and every child of Light offered the chance to serve and protect you.
If they prove worthy, you will not fall to Darkness.
That is the test of this world—and specifically of the Fey—and that is the price the gods demanded for your birth. ”
Hawksheart met the hostile gazes of the Fey warriors gathered protectively around her.
His eyes burned like green flames in the graven image of his face.
“You think I am a monster to have allowed this. Perhaps I am, but I assure you it was no easy thing to stand by and watch one I love suffer as Elfeya has. To know that if I tried to help her, I would condemn the world to Darkness.”
“Some things should never be sacrificed, no matter what the risk,” Rain interjected. “If you had told us, Elf, every man, woman, and child in the Fading Lands would have fought to the death before allowing a single Fey woman to suffer at the hands of the Mages as Elfeya has done.”
“That is exactly why I said nothing.” Hawksheart glared at Rain.
“If your truemate had never been born, there would have been no hope for this world. That was a truth I Saw plain as the Light of the Great Sun two thousand years ago. The Fey are the gods’ chosen champions of Light, yet your race has been in decline much longer than you ever suspected.
Ellysetta was born to save the Fey, and by saving them, to save this world. ”
“She has already saved us,” Rain said. “The tairen kitlings are hatched and half a dozen Fey women are with child for the first time in over a thousand years.”
“A temporary reprieve only.”
“Then what is left to do?” Ellysetta asked. “If saving the tairen and bringing fertility back to the Fey is not enough, what more must I do?”
The Elf’s shapely lips compressed. “That, I do not know. No matter how deeply I look, that answer is hidden from me. Even Grandfather—if he knows—will not speak of it. I know only that the future of this world hangs in the balance, and you will tip the scales one way or the other.”
In Ellysetta’s arms, Tajik began to stir.
Instantly solicitous, she bent over his prone form and ran a hand lightly over the bleeding tracks he’d raked in his own cheeks and the swelling lump where Gaelen had hit him.
Warm healing magic spilled from her fingertips and sank into his skin, eradicating all signs of the wounds and the blow.
Tajik’s eyes fluttered open, hazy at first, then sharpening to full alertness as he focused on her face.
Blue as the sky and filled with wonder, those eyes gazed up at her.
His hand lifted to her face, but stopped a scant fingerspan from touching her.
“Kem’jita’nessa. My sister’s daughter. How could I not have known? ”
Tears gathered at the edges of Ellysetta’s lashes and a smile trembled on her lips. She caught his hand and pressed a kiss into the palm before holding it against her cheek. “How are you feeling…Uncle?”
Tajik’s blue eyes went cloudy, then cold as he rose to his feet and turned a wintry gaze on his cousin, Galad Hawksheart. “I will not rest until I see you dead. This I do swear on—”
“Parei!” Ellysetta leapt to her feet and pressed her hand over Tajik’s mouth, silencing the vow before he could complete it. “You will not swear vengeance against him. I forbid it.”
Tajik gently removed himself from her grip. “Ajiana, you are my beloved sister’s child and holder of my lute’asheiva bond, but this does not concern you.”
“If you swear vengeance against him, then you must also swear it against me, for what he did, he did so I could be born.”
Tajik’s brows plummeted. Scowling, he regarded his brother Fey and found confirmation in their set jaws and brooding gazes.
Ellysetta laid her hand on Tajik’s wrist. ?He has suffered,? she told him privately.
?Every day since before your sister’s captivity, he has suffered more than he would ever want anyone to know.
He has taken no wife, sired no children, allowed himself no pleasure or joy in his own life since the day he Saw her fate.
? All that had come from the brief moment of unguarded communion when she’d met his Elvish eyes and, intentionally or not, he’d dropped the veil of secrecy he kept wrapped so securely about his private thoughts.
“We will find her, Tajik.” Bel stepped forward and laid his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I swear to you, we will find Elfeya, and we will set her free.”
“Assuming she and Shan still live,” Gil muttered.
Ellysetta turned to Hawksheart. “Do they?”