Lady of Light and Shadows (24 page)

Calm down, Ellie. Calm down and get control of yourself.

It was hopeless, of course. Once an episode started, nothing could hold back the violent seizures that ensued. Demon possession, the priests had proclaimed when she was a small child, Something not right in her soul had left a doorway for evil to gain access.

The sounds of fighting reached Rain's ears long before he turned down the final corridor. He rounded the corner at a dead run to find Lord Barrial's door barred by Talisa's quintet, and scorch marks from blasts of Fire on the walls around them. Rowan lay dazed against one wall, and Adrial stood in a crouched fighting stance in the center of the hallway, teeth bared in a snarl, red Fey'cha in each hand.

Rain absorbed the entire scene in an instant and launched himself at Adrial. A five-fold weave spun from his fingers, knocking the venomous blades to the ground and melting them to harmless slag even as Rain slammed into Adrial. They landed hard on the marble floor. Adrial's collarbone snapped and he grunted in pain, but Rain still pinned him with both muscle and magic. Fey warriors were taught from early adolescence to fight through pain, through debilitating and even mortal wounds, to keep fighting until their hearts no longer beat.

A sudden driving pain and shrieking roar in his ears made Rain gasp, and he almost lost his hold on Adrial. When had the younger man learned to do that? Quickly Rain wove a block, tight threads of Spirit barricading his mind from illusionary and mental attack.

Immediately Adrial struck again.

The air around Rain thickened, and a breathless feeling invaded his lungs. Adrial was weaving the oxygen out of the air around his king. Rain narrowed his eyes and growled a warning. "Careful, Fey, or you'll make me do something you'll greatly regret." He rebuffed Adrial's weave with a firm, steady push of his own. It wasn't an easy task. The Fey's mastery of Air was as strong as Rain's own, perhaps even stronger since Adrial had spent his years honing his primary talent while Rain had worked to master five. But despite that mastery, Adrial was wounded, his concentration scattered by the recent
shei’tanitsa
claiming.

Gaelen groaned. His head was pounding and he couldn't be sure if the most recent fall had knocked him unconscious or merely dazed him. He opened his eyes and stared up at the narrow slice of starlit sky visible between the hulking buildings on either side of the dark alley. The twin stars of the Great Serpent constellation still shone almost directly overhead. He'd been merely dazed, then.

He took a breath and wished he hadn't. Something was rotting in the darkness, and it wasn't just him. He rolled over onto his hands and knees. A soft, bloated lump squished beneath one palm. All at once, his stomach revolted and his body convulsed in wracking heaves.

The spasms passed, the agony slowly faded, and his head drooped down between trembling shoulders. He panted in deep, uneven gasps.

If the Eld could see him now ... the Dark Lord, weak as a babe, puking his guts up in a rank little alley. That would give those soul-twisted Mages a good laugh.

Gaelen started to wipe his mouth, then thought better of it when he caught wind of the better-to-remain-nameless muck coating his hands.

Gods, this was ridiculous. Pathetic. When he found the High Mage's daughter, his stench would bring her guards down or him long before he got within range of attack.

He rose to his feet, wobbled, and slapped a hand against the dark wall to steady himself. His feet shuffled forward and he staggered out of the alleyway into the dimly lit streets of one of Celieria's lower-class districts. Keeping to the shadows, he made slow progress through the narrow, winding streets. Old memories and instinct would have steered him towards the royal palace and Marissya, but he resisted the temptation of seeing his sister one last time. She was in the palace under guard of her
chakor
and close to a hundred Fey. In his current state, there was no way he would reach her alive to issue a warning.
Nei,
his first task must be to slay the High Mage's spawn.

He stretched out his senses, seeking the pull of Fey magic, the natural affinity that drew him to others of his kind. He sensed the concentration of the Fey in the palace, and another concentration in a humbler district of the city. Gaelen turned and staggered towards the West End, clinging to walls, forcing his feet to move step after dragging step.

He followed his senses into the heart of the West End until he reached a barrier that shone to his eyes with a faint lavender glow. Spirit weave. He examined the weave, recognizing the redirection pattern meant to keep unwanted mortals out. Beyond the barrier, he saw a faint lavender glow on a rooftop, then another atop a building just across the street. Fey warriors, cloaked in Spirit to hide them from mortal eyes. Guarding something. Guarding someone.

He stepped back into the shadows and marshaled his strength, managing a loose
weave
to hide his
presence
from them. It wasn't a strong weave-the
sel'dor
shrapnel in his body prevented that-but it was enough to make their eyes skim past him without seeing unless they knew just where to look.

Leaning back against a brick wall, he considered his options. He detected some fifty or more Fey guarding the small house. He was so weak, he would never survive a direct assault on the Fey. He patted the pocket of his torn and bloodstained tunic, feeling the bulge of the two
sorreisu kiyr
he'd removed from the dead Fey. They'd died, presumably, in the service of the Tairen Soul's mate, which would have forged some small tie to her. He would use that to draw her out, away from her guards, and then strike. But where?

A cool, fresh scent teased his nostrils. Water, clean and pure. The Velpin. Sudden thirst overwhelmed him. The river's magic-purified waters would cleanse him and soothe the worst of his wounds. The Fey magic permeating the Velpin's depths would revitalize his flagging strength. He would draw the woman to him there. He lurched to the left and shuffled painfully down a tiny side street, out of the path of the warriors and towards the cool renewal of the river.

Ellysetta wrapped her arms around her waist and tipped her head back to look up at the square of starlit sky that shone down through the crowded buildings. Dizziness assailed her, and her vision blurred. A second set of stars seemed to superimpose themselves over the first, wavering. She smelled something rank, something awful.

Sudden nausea gripped her, and she fell to her knees, retching violently in the grass beneath her mother's carefully tended orange tree.

When her stomach had emptied itself, she knelt there, panting.

"Ellysetta.”

Bel touched her shoulder, and she turned on him, snarling like a wild animal. He actually backed away from her. "Leave me alone," she snapped.

"You are ill.”

"No doubt you've already told Rain." Her tone was ugly, and she didn't care. A terrible anger had come to life inside her.

"He has blocked himself. I cannot reach him." Bel never took his eyes off her. "I thought you and I had become friends. Can you not talk to me?”

"Hasn't there been enough talk for one night?" Awkwardly, her bones aching as though someone had taken a stick to her, she rose to her feet. A breeze blew across her face, and she became aware of a faint chill on her skin. She lifted a hand, touched her cheek, and brought away cooling wetness. Tears. She was weeping and had not even realized it.

"Ellysetta," Bel insisted, "the Fey blame you for nothing, not will we even if you don't accept Rain's bond. And we want nothing more from you than that which you are willing to give. The gods weave as the gods will, and we Fey accept what comes our way. You are a blessing to us all.”

She ignored him in favor of the new need that drove her Thirst. She was so thirsty.

Bel took hold of her shoulders, shaking her. "Ellysetta. Talk to me”

He was in her way. She frowned at him and he was gone Gods, she was so thirsty she could drink a river.

"She's in pain," Adrial cried, struggling to free himself from Rain's grip, "and they won't let me go to her!”

"You haven't the right to go to her," Rain answered. "And if you'd killed a brother Fey, you would have lost her forever Adrial, think. It's the bond madness driving you. Believe me, know. Find your center and hang on with both hands. Talisa is safe. Marissya is with her.”

Rain didn't release the younger man until the glow of magic had left Adrial's eyes, and even then he remained watchful, not releasing the full measure of his power just in case he needed to summon it quickly.

"Let me go in, let me see her.”

"Adrial-”

"She's calling for me." The torment in Adrial's eyes was plain to see.
"Teska,
Rain.”

It wouldn't be long before Lord diSebourne learned of the fight outside Lord Barrial's chamber. Adrial hadn't been exactly subtle in his approach, and palace walls were notoriously thin, especially when it came to intriguing gossip. Still, if Talisa was calling for Adrial, and the husband wasn't here to prevent it, who was Rain to keep a
shei'tan
from his mate?

"Quickly, then," Rain murmured. "And if diSebourne comes, you go out the window. He can't find you with her. Be patient until we can find a way to get out of this without starting a war. Just as I had to stand in Dorian's court to appease his nobles, you must honor their laws and customs, too.”

Their eyes met, two
shei’tans,
both unbonded but tied forever to foreign truemates. Adrial nodded and slipped into the room. Rain waved Rowan inside as well, in case Adrial might need the calming influence of his older brother. The others went to work erasing evidence of the confrontation before melting away into the shadows. Talisa's quintet followed Rain into Lord Barrial's chamber, closing, bolting, and warding the door behind them.

Talisa lay on a plum silk fainting couch, her cheeks wan, her eyes closed. Marissya sat beside her, healing hands splayed and glowing, but Dax was holding his truemate's shoulders, which Rain knew was a sure sign that Marissya was unwell. Dax only did that when his
shei’tani
needed his strength to augment or bolster her own.

Lord Barrial was pacing the room like a caged tairen. He halted abruptly when he saw Adrial come in and hurry to Talisa's side. "What's he doing here?”

"Talisa called him," Rain said.

"Talisa-" Cann stared at his daughter. "I never knew she could do that.”

Rain saw Talisa's eyes open, saw the relief on her face when Adrial knelt and clasped her hand in his. "Chances are, neither did she. Though I'll wager that over the years you've had instances when you've known that she was hurt or in trouble.”

"Yes, but I've always had a sort of link to the ones I love," Cann said.

Rain nodded, unsurprised. "We call it Spirit, one of the two mystics. All Fey have at least a rudimentary control Spirit."

"I'm Celierian, not Fey.”

"If Dural vel Serranis is your ancestor, you're Fey enough. Serranis blood has always been strong. It's even produced Tairen Souls in the past.”

Marissya sat back.

"Well?" Cann asked her. "What is wrong with my daughter?”

"What's wrong with my
shei’tani?"
Adrial echoed.

"There is nothing wrong with her." Marissya said. "The pain she feels belongs to another. As does mine. I should have known, but it's been so long since I felt it." The
shei'dalin
drew a deep breath and met the dawning realization in Rain's eyes.
"Dahl'reisen.
An incredibly strong one.”

"Gaelen?" Rain asked.

"I don't know. I can't bear to open myself enough to find out. I've built as strong a block as I can, and still I feel his soul tearing at me.”

"What possible reason would he have to come here?" Cann asked, frowning. "Surely he knows the Fey are here and that Marissya would sense him.”

Rain thought of the two Fey slain when he'd sent them north and the rumors of
dahl'reisen
raids along the Eld-Celieria border. If Gaelen had joined forces with the Eld, there was one person in Celieria he could use to cause the Fey irreparable harm.

«Ellysetta.»
Rain reached for her, then realized his block was still in place. He tore the weave down and tried again. His heart stopped. He could not sense her.

Bel groaned and picked himself up off the ground. His ears rang and his vision was blurry from the force of his head cracking against the stones that paved the narrow courtyard.

Let that be a lesson to you, Belliard vel Jelani. When the Feyreisa says leave her alone, listen to her.

Grimacing, he shook his head and leaned over for an instant until the dizziness passed. Ellysetta's thrust of Air had been quick and brutal, plowing into him like the whip of a tairen's tail, flinging him across the courtyard and slamming him into the wall on the far side.

It had been stupid of him to grab her. A boy who had yet to pass his first level in the Dance of Knives would know better.

«Be!?
»
Rain's voice whipped at the insides of Bel's aching skull. «
What's happening? I can no longer sense Ellysetta.
»

«She's here with me.»
He glanced at the spot where she should have been, and froze.

Ellysetta was gone.