[English] LORD OF THE FADING LANDS

Lord of the Fading Lands
Page 30



There was an old Celierian proverb: Mind what you pray for, the gods may grant it. She had prayed for someone else, anyone else but Den. She'd been hoping for a nice, quiet manlike Papa. Instead, the gods had sent her the man who'd scorched the world.

The Feyreisen terrified her. He wore the promise of death like a cloak, and dread magic all but crackled around him. Yet even as her heart quailed, he drew her as no man ever had. Already, after only two brief meetings, he was like an addictive potion in her blood. She hungered for the sight of his face, the sound of his voice, the tingle in her skin when he was near. She didn't believe it was mind control, as Selianne feared. After all, what could Ellysetta Baristani possibly have that the King of the Fey would want?

She wasn't fool enough to think Rain Tairen Soul loved her just because he claimed she was his truemate. The man whose consuming, tragic love for the Lady Sariel was still celebrated throughout Celieria would not lightly cast aside the memories of his dead wife and set in her stead a young, unremarkable mortal stranger.

But Ellie also knew enough about the legends of the true- mate bond to know it only formed where deep, abiding love could blossom. The temptation of knowing a love so deep, so complete, so uncon***ional, was a powerful lure that appealed straight to her deepest, most secret desire. Plain, awkward, simple Ellie dreamed of love. Not the gentle, friendly love that could eventually grow between two people joined in an arranged marriage, but the boundless, passionate love that only happened in Feytales.

She brushed the pink-shimmered kolitou feather across her face, remembering the feel of Rain's hands doing the same. Impulsively she kissed the feather, then tucked it with care into the top drawer of her dressing table and hurried to get dressed.

Outside, Fey minds murmured to one another in approval. It was a fine first gift, and the Feyreisa had accepted it. The courtship had begun.

At half past seven bells, as the Baristani family broke their fast in their tiny kitchen, a knock sounded at the front door. "I'll get it," Sol said. He swiped at his lips with his napkin before tossing it on the table.

Curious as to who would call so early in the morning, Ellie followed him to the front door. She and her father both froze in surprise at the sight of a royal messenger standing on the doorstep, impeccably garbed in expensive gold-embroidered livery.

The man gave a brief bow "You are Sol Baristani, master woodcarver?" he asked.

Her father swallowed and cleared his throat. "Yes."

"Father of Ellysetta Baristani?" The messenger's gaze flickered to Ellie before snapping back to her father's face.

Papa's gaze did the same. "Yes," he said, a little more slowly this time.

The messenger clicked his mirror-polished black heels and bowed again, a half bow rather than the previous quarter. "Then it is my honor, privilege, and duty, Master Baristani, to present you with this summons to the royal palace." He held out a rolled parchment tied with a blue satin ribbon and sealed with a large glob of gold wax bearing the crest of the royal family of Celieria. "You and your family are to make your appearance by ten bells today.”

Papa cracked the royal seal and unrolled the parchment. His eyes scanned the contents rapidly. "There is no reason noted for the summons." He looked up at the messenger. "Why is our presence requested?”

"It is not my place to know, Master Baristani. I have been instructed to wait for you to prepare yourselves, and then to convey you to the palace. A coach has been provided." He waved at the covered coach waiting in the street. It was a massive vehicle, painted a rich Celierian blue buffed to a high gloss. A team of six matched grays stood patiently in their harnesses. The royal coat of arms was emblazoned in gold on the sides of the coach.

"I see. Then shall I assume this request is more in the way of a royal command?" The messenger bowed again.

"Well" Papa rubbed his chin the way he always did when gathering his thoughts. "Give us a bell or so to ready ourselves. You are welcome to wait in the house.”

The messenger eyed the Fey warriors standing like dark shadows behind Ellie's father and declined. "Thank you, Master Baristani, but I shall await your convenience outside.”

Papa closed the door and turned to Ellie. "First the Fey, now a royal summons. I can't help believing they are related, Ellie girl.”

She said nothing. What was there to say?

"Lauriana! Come quickly, my dear." Sol strode into the kitchen in search of his wife. The sudden commotion of chairs scraping back from the table marked the moment when he announced the surprising news. Her parents and sisters rushed out of the kitchen.

"Why are you just standing there, Ellie?" Mama demanded, herding the twins up the stairs. "We've barely time enough to get decent, let alone fit for an audience with the king.”

"I'll be right up, Mama." Ellie waited until her family had hustled upstairs before she met Belliard's impassive gaze. "This is the Feyreisen's doing, isn't it?" she asked. His head inclined slightly. "Well, I wish he'd given us a little more notice. I have nothing suitable to wear for a visit to the royal palace." Was that almost a smile that twitched at the corner of the stone-faced Fey's mouth?

"The Fey can provide you a gown worthy of a queen." He gestured, and Ellie's plain homespun dress became a dazzling court ball gown of shining ivory fabric, cascading with blond lace fine as a spider's web, and sparkling with thousands of tiny jewels.

Lord of the Fading Lands
Page 31



Stunned, Ellie touched the jewel-encrusted bodice and the billowing skirts. It was incredible. It was dazzling. It was . . . she frowned … an illusion? Though she could feel the cool, slippery satin beneath her fingers, the hard pebbles of each tiny jewel, even the crush of a corset pulling her waist in tight, something told her the dress wasn't real.

"It's beautiful," she told Belliard. "But it's not real, is it?”

His eyebrows actually inched higher. She had managed *****rprise him. "No, it is made of Spirit, but you should not be able to detect the difference between my weave and a real gown.”

"Spirit?”

"The magic I used for the weave. It is a mystic, not an elemental, magic. It works on the mind, not the physical. My command of Spirit is exceptional." There was a stiff tone to his voice, something that sounded very much like bruised masculine pride.

"I'm sorry." She tried to make amends. "It's a wonderful job, really. All my senses are telling me it's real" Without thinking, she reached out to pat his hand, and the Fey's board-stiff back went even stiffer.

Behind Belliard, blond Kiel coughed loudly into his hand while the brothers Adrial and Rowan studiously inspected the ceiling. Brown-haired Kieran's tiny smile was now wide and gleaming with white teeth, and his blue eyes danced with open amusement.

The gorgeous gown winked out of existence.

"I do not command Earth," Belliard told her in stilted tones. One might have thought he was confessing to some terrible, humiliating affliction, like having the uncontrollable urge to dress in women's clothing and dance beneath the light of the Mother on All Spirits' Eve. "Kieran"—he gestured to the brown-haired Fey—"controls Earth admirably. A gown made of Earth is real. He can make for you what I cannot.”

Ellie could never bring herself to hurt this proud, solitary Fey's feelings by rejecting his offer and accepting that of another. She'd already unwittingly hurt him quite enough. She shook her head. "Thank you for the offer, but no. I'm not Ashleanne the hearthminder, wearing her Fey gift-father's gown to the ball. I'm just plain Ellie Baristani, woodcarver’s daughter. I would feel silly and uncomfortable trying to be someone I'm not." She turned to climb the stairs.

"Ellysetta Baristani." Belliard's voice caused her to stop and turn back around. "Even should you clothe yourself in rags and dirt, you would bring honor to the Fey.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. Those were quite possibly the nicest words anyone had ever said to her. "Thank you.”

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.»

Lord of the Fading Lands
Page 32



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 *****ggest 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 tra***ions 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”

Lord of the Fading Lands
Page 33



"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.

Though she had vowed never to do so, Ellie had once again donned her green dress and her mother's bridal chemise, hoping that it would bring more luck this time than it had the last. Her mother had helped her put up her hair in a soft, flattering style of curls and intricate plaits, held down by a set of long-toothed ivory combs. She wore no jewelry. She had none. But Kieran of the Fey had presented her with a girdle of delicate gold links and a sheath for Belliard's knife, decorated with six small, lovely jewels that shone red, blue, green, white, black, and lavender. The knife fit the sheath perfectly and now rested snugly on her right hip, pressed against the folds of her green gown. Belliard had said nothing when he saw it, but his eyes had flickered for a moment and she knew he was pleased.

An important-looking little man in elegant clothes met them at the top of the palace stairs. He greeted them with a gracious bow and introduced himself as the Right Honorable Ser Taneth Marcet, Undersecretary to the Minister of State. "If you and your family will follow mm, please, Master Baristani.”

He led them into the palace, down several marble-floored hallways, and into a luxurious antechamber. Ellie had never seen such wealth. Massive portraits of royal Celierian ancestors adorned the walls, their painted eyes looking down with imperious detachment. Gorgeous ivory brocade chairs overflowed with tasseled ice-blue and deep rose pillows. A rich, exquisitely carved sideboard of solid burlwood rested against one wall, its lustrous top covered with silver trays bearing all manner of fruits, comfits, tiny finger sandwiches, and delicate pastries. On a nearby cart rested a three-legged silver urn with eggshell-thin porcelain cups, tiny silver spoons, and a selection of sugars and creams elegantly presented around it.

After a brief investigation of the antechamber, the Fey settled themselves into the four corners of the room, and Belliard stood beside Ellie.

The Undersecretary gestured to the food and drink. "The refreshments are yours to enjoy," he told them, and he backed out of the room.

"Ser! Wait! Can you please tell us—" Sol's voice died off as the doors closed.

Lillis and Lorelle made a beeline for the comfits and had —already jammed three or four of the delicate candies in their mouths before Lauriana noticed and rapped out a sharp order to desist.

"But, Mama," Lorelle objected around the mass of sweets in her mouth, "the man said we could help ourselves.”

"And have powdered sugar and chocolate stains all over you as a result? I think not. And don't talk with your mouth full, Lorelle.”

The twins pouted, but as soon as their mother turned her attention back to Sol and Ellie, they each snatched another handful of comfits and hurried to plop themselves down on one of the large chairs facing away from their parents, where they proceeded to furtively nibble their purloined treats. Ellie shook her head and noticed that the Fey named Kieran was smiling again.

"Well," said Lauriana. "It looks as though they intend to keep us in suspense. As it's obvious we're being treated as guests rather than prisoners, you would think someone would tell us what's going on.”

"I imagine we'll know soon enough," Sol replied in a distracted voice. Ellie cast him a surprised glance, only to smile fondly as she recognized the cause of his distraction. His attention was riveted by the carving on the burlwood sideboard, and he crouched down beside the piece to inspect it.

"Exquisite," he breathed, running a hand over the intricate designs that had obviously been worked by a master. "Laurie, my dearest, come look at this workmanship. I've never seen finer. I wonder who did this. One of the old masters, no doubt. Probably Centarro. It looks old enough, and the amount of detail—amazing!—is right for the period. Maybe Purcel … but no, he was never one to work with burl- wood …" Completely absorbed, Sol pulled a small magnifying glass from his suit pocket and began looking for the tiny master's seal that was sure to be hidden somewhere on the carving.

Ellie, having skipped breakfast in the morning's rush, reached over him to help herself to a buttery fruit-and-mit-filled pastry, then moved to the cart to pour a cup of dark, steaming keflee into one of the delicate cups provided for that purpose. Holding the warm cup to her nose, she breathed deep of the spice-scented aroma and sighed happily. She poured a healthy dollop of honeyed cream into the bittersweet drink and took a sip, closing her eyes in bliss. Nothing should taste so lovely as this. Rich, creamy, sweet, spicy, with just enough bitterness to make it full-bodied. She rolled the flavors around on her tongue and nearly moaned in pleasure.

"The gods' blessings on whoever discovered keflee," she murmured, opening her eyes to find all the Fey watching her in fascination. Her chin came up in defiance of the blush warming her cheeks. "Well, surely some of the Fey must like it too?" she challenged.

"Aiyah." That came from the blond-haired warrior named Kiel. "Many do. But few who ... enjoy it … so well.”

Before Ellie could respond, the doors at the far end of the room opened wide and the doorman announced in ringing tones, "Her Majesty, Queen Annoura of Celieria.”

Lord of the Fading Lands
Page 34



Lauriana gasped and fell into a deep, awkward curtsey while beside her Sol bent nearly double in a bow. The twins froze in the process of stuffing the last of the comfits in their mouths, then, in a flash of petticoats and pantalets, they tumbled off the chair and hid behind it, only their quivering bows visible over the stuffed arms of the chair. Ellie looked at the cup of keflee in her one hand and the pastry in the other, and spent a frantic moment searching for a suitable place to set them. Belliard came to her rescue, taking the cup and pastry so she could sink into her own curtsey.

"Please rise." If the queen found their blatant nervousness amusing, she didn't let on. Her voice was pleasant and warmly modulated. "Master Baristani, a pleasure to meet you at last.”

As her father replied, Ellie rose to her feet, clasped her hands tightly together, and stared in wide-eyed fascination at the woman who was queen of all Celieria. She was a tiny woman, with delicate features and large blue eyes in a lovely heart-shaped face. Pale hair, so fine it looked like spun sugar, was piled high in an elaborate cascade of curls threaded liberally with ropes of pearls and gold. About her throat she wore a gold necklace dripping with sapphires and diamonds that must have cost the yearly wages of the entire West End. She was a walking testimony to the privilege of the upper class, and Ellie was suddenly very conscious of her own humble dress and even humbler beginnings.

"And you must be Ellysetta." The queen was standing before her, smiling, her delicate, milky white hands outstretched. "My dear, I have heard quite a bit about you.”

Ellie stared at those perfect, satin-skinned hands and reluctantly placed her own much rougher ones in them. "Your Majesty," she blurted, hoping to draw attention away from her chapped skin and ragged fingernails, "I am honored to meet you. Though I am still not certain why we were summoned.”

The queen patted her hand. "Patience is a virtue, my dear. All will reveal itself in good time." She flashed a small, conspiratorial smile. "In truth, I'm not supposed to be here myself, but I simply couldn't stand the curiosity any longer.”

"Curiosity, ma'am?”

"About you, dear. About you." The lovely blue eyes narrowed a bit. "I would have thought the Fey would have seen to your dress before bringing you to the palace. Well, pay no mind to the gossiping tongues." She walked around Ellie, inspecting her from all sides. "You are quite a bit younger than I would have imagined. And not much to look at, though you show definite promise. Skinny. And very, very tall. Dear me, a veritable giant. Please tell me you've stopped growing.”

Taken aback by the unexpected attack delivered in such sweet tones, Ellie stepped away from the queen. Had the woman brought her here merely to insult her looks? Surely a queen should be above such cruel entertainment. Ellie's hands fell to her sides, and the right one brushed the hard metal sheath housing Belliard's knife. Her fingers clasped around it with sudden need. The feel of the cool metal, the tiny pebbles of the six stones, the sturdy hilt of Bel's Fey'cha dagger, made Ellie's nervousness fade. She. Ellie Baristani, tall, skinny, not very attractive Ellie, was the woman Rain Tairen Soul had declared to be his shei'tani.

Her spine went stiff: She straightened to her full—and quite considerable—height. Her shoulders squared, her eyes flashed, and she lifted her chin, staring down her nose at the tiny queen. "Come to think of it, Your Majesty, I believe I must still be growing. Either that, or you are shrinking.”

"Ellie!" Lauriana and Sol gasped her name together.

Kieran burst out laughing, and Belliard—too-solemn Belliard—actually smiled.

Queen Annoura's limpid blue eyes sharpened, and she eyed Ellie with new respect. "Very good, my dear," she purred. "I see you are not without claws of your own. You may just survive the coming days after all.”

Ellie smiled, showing her teeth. "You may count on it, Your Majesty.”

The queen inclined her head, and Ellie returned the gesture warily.

"Enough of my little entertainment." Queen Annoura glanced at Belliard. "The Feyreisa and her parents will remain here until they are called. I will send someone for the children. I'm sure they would much rather play in the palace garden than stay cooped up in this room. I trust you have no objection, Madam Baristani? No? Good. Nurse will be eager to have such pretty little charges in her care, and I'll be sure she knows not to feed them too many more comfits.”

In a swish of perfumed skirts, she was gone.

Ellie sank into the nearest chair, covering her face with shaking hands.

"Ellysetta Baristani!" Lauriana flew across the room to stand before her daughter, hands on hips, the light of maternal outrage in her eye. "What were you thinking, speaking like that to the queen? I never raised you to be so rag-mannered!”

"I don't know," Ellie groaned. "I don't know what came over me”

"The tairen, I think," Belliard replied, his cobalt eyes gleaming bright rather than dark. "I made a fool of myself. I spoke rudely to the queen.”

"You spoke like the Feyreisa. You brought pride to this Fey." He glanced at his Fey brethren and cried, "Miora felah ti'Feyreisa! Joy to the Feyreisa!”

"Miora felah ti'Feyreisa!" the other four shouted back.

Then the very walls seemed to shake with an echoing roar as nearly two hundred Fey voices shouting in unison rose from all parts of the palace.

"Good sweet Lord of Light!" Lauriana exclaimed.

Lord of the Fading Lands
Page 35



Ellie just stared at her quintet in dismay and prayed her queasy, lurching stomach would settle soon, before she humiliated herself beyond all hope of recovery.

CHAP TER SIX

Fortunately, Ellie's stomach settled and she regained at least the outward appearance of composure by the time another liveried servant came to fetch them. Circled by the Fey, she followed her parents out of the antechamber and down a series of halls until they came to a set of massive, opulent doors manned by two bewigged footmen and a third pinch-nosed man. Four royal guards flanked the doors, spears in hand, swords shining at their hips. They eyed the bristling display of Fey weapons suspiciously, but made no attempt to disarm the warriors.

The massive doors swung inward, and the pinch-nosed man called out in a carrying voice: "Master and Madam Sol Baristani. Mistress Ellysetta Baristani.”

Before them, the Celierian throne room loomed large. A wide blue carpet stretched for a very long way down the center of the room, leading to two enormous thrones that ruled over the vaulted space from a raised dais. Hundreds of people stood in crowded masses on either side of the carpet, and balconies up above held another hundred. At least two dozen royal guardsmen stood at attention along the walls of the room. The Baristanis and their Fey escort walked down the long and daunting aisle. The king and queen were seated on their respective thrones, flanked on the king's right by Dax v'En Solande and his red-shrouded truemate Marissya, the shei'dalin. Two rows of benches, presently empty, sat before the dais. Another small platform surrounded by a semicircular wooden railing stood off to the right between the thrones and the benches, angled so the occupants of the thrones, the benches, and the room at large would be able to see whoever stood behind that railing.

Ellie's mouth went dry and her stomach took another unpleasant lurch as sudden realization struck. This was the annual gathering of the Celierian Supreme Court of Justice, presided over by the king and queen, who served as judge and jurors, and facilitated by Marissya v'En Solande, whose touch could force the truth from even the most hardened criminal. This was the court that rendered final judgment on disputed or undecided cases from all over Celieria. The verdicts of this court were final and irreversible.

And Ellie had just mouthed off to the queen.

Oh, gods. If there's any mercy in you, don't let the queen hold a grudge!

A man in calf-length blue robes met them at the end of the carpet and gestured for them to take seats in the second row of benches to the right. After making their bows and curtseys, Ellie and her parents sat, but the Fey went to stand at the far edge of the benches.

The pinch-nosed man's voice boomed out again: "Master and Madam Gothar Brodson. Goodman Den Brodson." Ellie felt her heart sink into her stomach. Sure enough, there they were. Den was once again stuffed into his too-tight suit, pomaded and curled, and wearing his smug klat's smile, as if he knew something no one else did.

The Steward of the Court, wearing blue robes with gold stripes on the lower half of the sleeves, walked to the king and handed him a parchment. King Dorian scanned the parchment, then handed it back and nodded. The steward turned to the benches. "Goodman Brodson," he said, "yesterday you petitioned the court to validate the betrothal contract between yourself and Mistress Ellysetta Baristani. You were granted the validation and have petitioned the courts for a special license to wed her immediately. Is this correct?”

Den stood, his chest swelling, his strong chin jutting forward. "It is, ser.”

"You have a contract signed by the girl's father?”

"I do.”

The steward referred to the parchment. "The girl bears your mark?”

"She does.”

"Is she in this courtroom?”

"She is." Den pointed towards Ellie. "That is my betrothed, Ellie Baristani.”

"Thank you, Goodman Brodson. You may sit.”

Den shot a gloating look at Ellie and sat.

The steward came to stand before Ellie's father. "Master Baristani, did you sign a betrothal contract promising your daughter in marriage to Den Brodson?”

Sol stood. "I did, ser." He glanced back at Ellie. "But—"

"Thank you, Master Baristani," the steward interrupted.

"That will be all." He turned his cold, dispassionate gaze on Ellysetta and called her name. "Ellysetta Baristani.”

With a gasp, she jumped to her feet. "Y-yes, ser?" Her heart was racing, her stomach roiling, giving her cause to regret the pastry and keflee she had consumed.

"Do you bear Den Brodson's mark on your person?”

"I had no idea what he was doing!" she blurted. "I tried to stop him!" Guffaws and raucous jeers sounded in the gallery, and her face flamed with embarrassment. The bailiff banged his gavel and called for silence.

"Answer the question, Mistress Baristani. Do you bear Den Brodson's mark on your person?”

Her head drooped. "Yes.”

"You may sit.”

She sank down on the bench, her shoulders slumped. She and her father had just confirmed before the king and queen that Den had a valid and binding claim to her. That was the same as clapping a collar round her neck and giving Den the leash. She glanced at Bel, but his face was inscrutable. Not even Kieran was smiling.

"Goodman Brodson." This time it was the king who spoke. Den leapt to his feet again as the king leaned forward. "Celierian laws and customs regarding betrothals and betrothal contracts are clear and immutable, as we are certain you are well aware. So clear and immutable, in fact, that you should not have found it necessary to file your petition. But your case has extenuating circumstances, does it not? Circumstances that we see you excluded from your petition." A little of the smugness faded from Den's face. "It has been brought to our attention that these circumstances alter the very nature of your case from a simple civil dispute to a potentially explosive situation that could adversely affect Celieria's foreign policy, our diplomatic relations, and even our national security. Did you not think those considerations were important enough to include in the statement you filed?”

Lord of the Fading Lands
Page 36



"I—" Den went pale around the mouth. "But ... Your Majesty, I—”

"Take your seat, Goodman. There is another who would address this court." The king gestured and the massive doors at the back of the room swung open again.

In deep, ringing tones, the tempo slowed so that each word sounded clear as a bell, the king's man called out, "His Esteemed Majesty, Rainier vel'En Daris Feyreisen, the Tairen Soul, King of the Fading Lands, Defender of the Fey.”

Ellie's heart, which had been in her stomach, leapt up into her throat. She jumped to her feet and turned, like every other person in the room, to watch the Fey king make his entrance.

"Dear gods," she heard one woman whisper. "He is magnificent.”

Tall, lean, and searingly handsome, Rainier vel'En Dari exuded the dark, dangerous beauty and mystery of the Fey race as he strode down the blue carpet. His black leather tunic and snug leggings seemed to absorb light, while his bristling collection of Fey blades were so highly polished that they reflected light back with almost blinding intensity. Black boots, tooled with scarlet and purple tairen, crossed the length of the throne room in smooth, ground-eating strides. A scarlet sash embroidered with tairen worked in gold thread draped from his left shoulder to his right hip, just below one of the two crossed bands of Fey'cha daggers, while a chain made of fist-sized squares of gold, each set with large Tairen's Eye crystals, hung from one shoulder to the other. A golden crown circled his head, each of its six points topped with a small globe of priceless Tairen's Eye crystal. Even without the crown, no one who saw him could fail to recognize he was a king. He carried power as effortlessly as his broad shoulders carried the purple-lined black cape that billowed out behind him.

He reached the end of the carpet and condescended to bend his spine in the almost bow made by one king to another. He didn't look at Ellie, but his emotions reached out to her and his voice whispered in her mind, «Shei'tani.» She shivered at the liquid caress of the Fey word that meant true- mate, wife, and beloved all wrapped up in one. Every nerve in her body was aware of him as he stood only feet away, and when a warm breeze of Air brushed across the back of her neck and swirled around her ear, she almost cried out at the pleasure of it.

The crack of the bailiff's gavel brought silence to the court. "The king of the Fading Lands has approached us with a petition of his own," King Dorian announced. "One that has made us reconsider the validation and license granted to Goodman Brodson yesterday. We have invited the Feyreisen to give testimony." King Dorian gestured to the platform beside him. "If you would step into the testimony box, My Lord Feyreisen.”

The Fey king strode to the platform on the right and stepped behind the railing, facing the court. Marissya came to stand close, but she did not touch him.

The steward stepped forward. "Rainier vel'En Daris, you have stated that you have a claim to Ellysetta Baristani that supersedes our laws and you have petitioned this court to dissolve the betrothal contract between Den Brodson and Ellysetta Baristani. Is this correct?”

"It is." His voice was deep and sure, his face proud and uncompromising.

"What is the nature of this claim that supersedes our laws?”

"Ellysetta Baristani is my shei'tani." His eyes found hers. "My truemate." A murmur of voices rippled through the crowd.

"Please tell the court what a truemate is.”

"A truemate is the person who holds the other half of a Fey's soul." His gaze never left hers, and Ellie felt the magic of his voice wrapping her in imperceptible weaves of longing. "It is the most sacred bond known to any Fey, more sacred than that between a king and his subjects, more sacred even than that between a mother and a child.”

"Ellysetta Baristani is a Celierian, not subject to your laws or customs but rather to ours," the king interjected. "Though she may indeed be your shei'tani, she is also legally betrothed to Den Brodson according to our laws. He has a prior claim, which he is obviously unwilling to renounce.”

Rainier met the king's gaze impassively. "I am the Feyreisen, she is my shei'tani. The betrothal to the Celierian must be dissolved. I understand your ways. I will pay Den Brodson and his family restitution for their loss. I do not ask that you break your laws, only that you understand and recognize that there is a higher law at work here. The gods created one woman whose soul could call mine. She sits there. Her betrothal to the Celierian must be dissolved.”

"And if it is not dissolved?”

The sudden biting coldness of the Fey's expression chilled the room. "I am the only living Tairen Soul. Any harm to me is harm to the Fey. I have recognized her as my shei'tani, and the bond must be fulfilled. If you deny her to me, you do me irreparable harm. The Fey will consider it an act of war.”

An audible gasp rose from the gallery.

The Tairen Soul's face smoothed. "But let us hope it does not come to that. As I have said, I will pay the young man's family restitution for their loss.”

He gestured and the doors at the back of the throne room opened. Two Fey entered, bearing a huge chest between them. They brought it to the front of the room and at Rain's signal placed it before the Brodsons and opened the lid to reveal a dazzling display of gold and jewels, wealth enough to dower a princess several times over. Gothar Brodson's eyes nearly popped out of his head, while his wife fell back in her seat in a half swoon.

Lord of the Fading Lands
Page 37



"I know enough of your Celierian laws to know that if the parents accept restitution, the betrothal contract is void." He pinned the Brodsons with a hard, haughty look. "Do you accept?”

"Yes!" Den's parents cried, even as their son shouted, "No!" Gothar cuffed his son on the side of the head. "Quiet, boy. That's a flaming fortune before you. More money than you'll see in a lifetime. No girl's worth losing that." The butcher nodded. "We agree.”

"I don't!" shouted Den. When his father would have hit him again, Den deflected the blow and glared ferociously at his sire. "Why do you think he's offering you that money? Because she's worth twenty times that, and he knows it! I won't give up my claim to her. I—”

With a snarl of rage, Rain faced him, and Den's voice suddenly went silent even though his mouth was still shouting words. It didn't take anyone very long to realize what had happened.

"My Lord Feyreisen!" the king snapped. "Release our subject at once. You will not use Fey sorcery to silence a Celierian subject in a Celierian court of law.”

Though he had the power to destroy Den Brodson with a flick of an eyelash—and despite the fact that the tairen in him was eager to take the burden of this rultshart's death upon his soul—Rain knew it would be unwise. Ellysetta had not yet entered into the matebond. She and her family were Celierian. They honored Celierian laws, not Fey ones. Besides, a Fey did not call tairen to hunt mice. With a narrow-eyed look at the king that plainly said he released the boy because he wished to, not because Dorian commanded it, Rain dissolved the bonds of Air he had woven over Den's larynx to prevent speech.

"You see!" Den cried, pointing an accusing finger at Rain. "How do you know he hasn't used his sorcery to steal my bride?”

"Goodman Brodson," King Dorian said, "you are beginning to annoy me.”

"But, Your Majesty—”

"Be silent. You marked a girl under questionable circumstances, forced a betrothal contract out of her parents based on that mark, and now you object because another man may have laid claim to the same girl using his own superior brand of force? Little boys shouldn't throw torches at tairen, Goodman. The tairen may get a burn, but the boys will be roasted and eaten for dinner." The king turned to Rain. "As for you, My Lord Feyreisen, regardless of whether or not the Brodsons accept your payment, there are still lawful procedures this court must follow—”

"There are no procedures to govern the bond between a Tairen Soul and his mate," Rain interrupted. "I have stated my case before you. She is my shei'tani. You have seen the Brodsons accept my payment to them. Dorian vel Serranis Torreval, King of Celieria, son of the line of Marikah vol Serranis of the Fey, do you dissolve the betrothal between Ellysetta Baristani and Den Brodson, holding the Baristani family blameless of any wrongdoing in this matter?”

"My Lord Feyreisen." Queen Annoura leaned forward in her throne before her husband could reply. "You have indeed stated your case." Her blue eyes were narrowed, and there was a snap in her voice. "The Brodsons have accepted your payment, and yet I don't recall hearing Master Baristani grant you the right to break the betrothal on his behalf." She met Sol Baristani's bespectacled brown eyes. "Have you given this right to the Tairen Soul, Master Baristani?”

Sol rose to his feet. He gave Rain a long, hard look. "No, Your Majesty," he said very clearly. "I have not.”

"Ah. So it seems, Rainier vel'En Daris, you are incorrect in your assumption that the betrothal is broken merely because the groom's family accepts your very large bribe" The queen smiled sweetly. "Perhaps you are not so familiar with Celierian laws as you thought.”

Rain's eyes blazed a furious command at the woodcarver. "You will grant me this right”

"Sol ..." The woodcarver's wife tugged at her husband's sleeve. Her voice was an urgent whisper that Rain brought easily to his ears on a waft of Air. "Don't do it. Think of Ellie, of what's best for her. You can't mean to cede her over to these … these godless sorcerers.”

Sol shrugged her off, muttering, "Hush, Laurie. I am thinking of what's best for her. She never wanted Den, you know that, but she's dreamed of the Fey—this Fey—all her life.”

"You've always given her everything she wanted, but not this, Sol. They'll destroy her. They'll corrupt her soul. Everything we've ever done to keep her safe will be lost.”

"Maybe, Laurie, the Bright Lord sent these Fey to help her, to protect her from the things we can't.”

"And maybe they're the very thing we were meant to protect her against!”

Sol took a deep breath, stiffened his spine, and struck an aggressive, challenging stance that any male of any species would have recognized. He turned to Rain. "I don't know you, my lord, and you don't know me. But lest you think it has escaped my notice, for all this talk of souls and mating, not once have I heard the word marriage fall from your lips. I did not raise my daughter to be any man's concubine, even if he is a king. If you want the right to break Ellysetta's betrothal, Tairen Soul, rest assured you will wed her. And I mean by Celierian custom, in a Celierian church, with her family in attendance and a binding marriage contract in my hand!”

"Sol!" his wife gasped. "No!”

"Papa!" Incredulity and hope warred with fear and pride on Ellysetta's face.

Lord of the Fading Lands
Page 38



Rain's expression lost its fury. A man protecting his daughter was something any Fey understood all too well. "Agreed." He turned back to the queen. "I believe now your Celierian laws are satisfied. Ellysetta's father has given me the right to offer payment on his behalf. The Brodsons have accepted it. The betrothal is broken.”

Seeing Ellysetta about to slip from his grasp, Den jumped to his feet and shouted, "She's mine! She bears my mark! She accepted it willingly! Ask her parents! She never tried to stop me, never called out for help.”

A feral growl rumbled ominously from the Feyreisen's throat. He bared his teeth, his eyes flashing hot with power and rage. The guards along the walls snapped to tense alertness. "She called to me. I felt her terror, her fear, her outrage across hundreds of miles. Willing? You attacked her in her own home, took advantage of her innocence and her ignorance of your mating rituals to put your filthy mark on her and lay claim to her against her will. You did not know she was my shei'tani. It is the only reason you still draw breath.”

"My Lord Feyreisen!" The king snapped. "You will not threaten Our subjects in Our presence.”

Rain's head whipped around. The torches on the wall flared violently, making the crowd gasp. "Then your subjects had best not lay claim to the Tairen Soul's mate," he hissed. It was not a ruler, not a man of peace, who looked out from Rain's face, but a fierce predator, barely caged. No one in Celieria had seen a Tairen Soul in a thousand years, and no one—not even the king, with his Fey blood—had understood what they were dealing with. Ellie couldn't help feeling both fear and a thrill of excitement at the display of primitive possessiveness. His savagery, which should have frightened her witless, made her feel protected instead. She had never known what it was to be wanted so badly by anyone, had never dreamed such a thing could happen to her. A tide of longing swept over her, drowning out her fear of magic, her nightmares, even Selianne's warning not to let the Fey control her mind.

She looked at Rain's hands, now clenched into tight fists. She remembered the feel of them sliding into her hair, remembered the closeness of his arms pulling her tight, the way his voice had poured over her like honeyed cream as he spoke the Fey words of shei'tanitsa claiming, Ver reisa ku'chae. Kern surah, shei'tani. Your soul calls out. Mine answers, beloved. She remembered the warmth and security she had felt with the sound of his heart beating in her ear. Heat bloomed in her br**sts and belly, a tingling heat that made her skin feel two sizes too small.

Rain drew a hissing breath, and his eyes, glowing like beacons, fastened on her face. Need, hot and urgent, rolled over her, scorching her, bringing every nerve in her body to quivering life. She could almost feel his desire, like hands, stroking her through the fabric of her gown, touching the aching tightness of her br**sts, the liquid heat gathering in her loins. Her breath came very fast, and a fine trembling started in her belly, radiating outward. "Dear gods," she whispered, her eyes starting to lose focus. What was happening to her? "Dear gods.”

Then he was there, his strong hands drawing her up against his chest, his arms enfolding her. His cape swirled about her, hiding her from the hundreds of prying eyes surrounding them. She leaned into his strength, pressing her hot face against his throat. Her arms linked around his waist and clung tight, as his head bent to her and his lips rained searing kisses and a storm of passionate Feyan words in her hair.

"You are mine.”

The fierce claim sent another bout of shudders rippled through her. All she could do was cling to him and whisper brokenly, "Yes. Yes.”

Rain's head shot up in savage triumph. "She is mine," he growled, his narrowed gaze spearing the onlookers with naked threat, a lethal promise of death to anyone fool enough IF to try to take Ellysetta Baristani from him.

The scorching heat of the Tairen Soul's desire for his mate was palpable, and his primitive claiming of her raised the temperature of the room several degrees higher. In the gallery, breathless, corseted ladies swooned by the dozens. On the dais, the king swallowed and ran a finger under the suddenly too-tight neck of his tunic, while the queen shifted restlessly on her throne and fanned her face, muttering, "Good sweet Lord of Light”

King Dorian cleared his throat. "It would indeed seem that you and Mistress Baristani are in accord on the subject, My Lord Feyreisen, and this court has heard all it needs to hear." His face settled into a stern expression and he leveled a hard gaze on the butcher's son. "Den Brodson, you claimed the girl by marking her without her consent or knowledge, and when the king of the Fey also claimed her, you filed a petition in the hopes that our court administrators would not yet have heard the name of Ellysetta Baristani and would make your claim binding before anyone was the wiser. You sought to deny the Tairen Soul his truemate through legal maneuvering.”

Den opened his mouth to object, but the king's hand slashed up in a curt gesture that silenced the objection before Den gave it voice.

"If Ellysetta Baristani were being claimed by the Feyreisen against her will—if he threatened her in any way—then I might very well refuse the Fey king his mate and face the consequences of that decision, whatever those might be. But you, Den Brodson, not the Tairen Soul, are the one who has molested the girl, claimed her against her will, threatened her family, and tried to manipulate this court in order to force her to your will. I will not—now or ever—plunge Celieria into war in order *****pport the questionable claim of an unquestionable bully.”

Lord of the Fading Lands
Page 39



"She is mine!" Den shouted. "She bears my mark. Everything she says is being manipulated by these Fey sorcerers, and you are falling prey to their magic!”

"Goodman Brodson, you will be silent!" The king gripped the arms of his throne and glared at the butcher's son. "As my queen correctly noted earlier, the betrothal agreement is between Master Baristani and your father. You have no say in the matter. Your father has accepted payment in lieu of your bride. The betrothal is dissolved. The Baristanis are free of all obligations—material or honorable—entailed by the agreement or the circumstances leading up to it. Ellysetta Baristani may bear your mark, but she is no longer yours to claim. Is that clear?”

"It's clear, Your Majesty!" Gothar replied quickly, grabbing his son up in his arms and clamping one huge hand over the younger man's mouth. "Very clear! Thank you for your time and patience. Den won't be bothering these people.”

"See that he does not," the king warned. Then he took a deep breath and leaned back in his throne. "In light of the obviously strong feelings this case has … er … aroused"—a weak, dazed laughter rippled through the audience—"I call a one-bell recess to allow passions to cool." He nodded and the steward's gavel cracked out the call for dismissal. The king immediately rose to his feet and thrust out an imperious hand to his queen. "Annoura, you will attend me.”

The queen eyed the passion-dark eyes of her husband, the flaring nostrils, the ruddy color of his face, and took his hand, allowing him to drag her off her throne and into the privacy of the antechambers beyond.

Only a few paces away, Ellie's Fey protectors watched the throne room empty with astonishing quickness, the majority of observers leaving by twos with flushed faces and dazed eyes. The few dozen who remained were mostly women who stayed behind to ogle the Fey Tairen Soul and his Celierian truemate. "Any bets on the number of Celierian babies born in nine months' time?" Kiel vel Tomar murmured dryly as he watched the rush of departing couples.

Rowan vel Arquinas ran a hand through his black hair and shook his thighs to ease the tightness of his leathers. "And I thought the keflee thing was stimulating." Beside him his younger brother Adrial gave a bark of laughter that he tried to disguise with a fit of coughing.

Kieran grinned and obligingly thumped him on the back. "What do you think, Bel?”

"She is a fine mate for our king," Belliard replied in a distracted voice. The watchful eyes of Ellysetta's blood-sworn champion were focused on the enraged face of Den Brodson as his father dragged him from the courtroom.

"Bel?" Losing his grin, Kieran followed the older Fey's gaze. "You think the little sausage still hopes to make trouble? Surely even he would not be so stupid.”

"Not stupid, no. He was wise enough to see in our Feyreisa what these other Celierian fools did not. What even she does not see in herself." Belliard fingered one of the red-handled Fey'cha sheathed in his crisscrossed chest straps. "A man who has laid claim *****ch wealth will not let it slip from his hands without a fight."

CHAPTER SEVEN

As the courtroom emptied, Sol cleared his throat to gain the attention of the infamous Fey holding Ellysetta. "My Lord Feyreisen? Er… Your Majesty?”

Lavender eyes snapped open, bright and fierce. Sol felt his knees tremble, but he stood his ground. "I am Sol Baristani, sir, the father of that young woman you're holding so closely. It would make me quite a bit happier if you would release her.”

"Sol …" Lauriana muttered a barely audible warning.

"Ah, the father." Anger skated across the Tairen Soul's face. "The man who would sell my shei'tani to the rultshart with the filthy, roving mouth and disrespectful hands”

Sol drew in a sharp breath. "Despite what you obviously believe, I love my daughter. I urge you not to cast judgment when you know nothing of me or the reasons for my actions.”

"Papa?" Ellie emerged from the folds of the Tairen Soul's cloak. Her hair was mussed. A few of her curls had won freedom from their confinement and now dangled in springy ringlets from their anchor pins. Her green eyes were heavy-lidded and slumberous, though as she glanced from Sol to Rain, her gaze sharpened considerably. "My Lord Feyreisen?”

The Tairen Soul's expression relaxed, and he reached out to wind one loose flame-colored coil around his index finger. He rubbed the curl with his thumb, a tender expression warming his eyes. "I would never bring nor allow harm to my shei'tani's family," he announced, and his fingers set to work on the intimate task of putting Ellysetta's escaped curls back in order. "To do so would be to harm her. You may speak your mind, Master Baristani, without fear of reprisal." He tucked the last ringlet in place and secured it with a pin.

The Tairen Soul's knuckle lightly caressed Ellie's cheek while his gaze met and held Sol's. Sol understood. The boundaries had just been established. Though Sol was Ellie's father, the Tairen Soul was her mate and he claimed the right to protect and guide her.

Sol expelled a weary breath. "Den Brodson isn't the husband I would have chosen for Ellie, but once he marked her— with or without her consent—she would have been shunned here in Celieria had I not signed the betrothal. I made what I considered to be the right decision under the circumstances, to protect both Ellie and the rest of my family.”

"To protect her, you sell her to a man she despises? A man who takes advantage of her innocence to trap her into a union she does not want?”