Lady of Light and Shadows (35 page)

She tilted her head back. Above her, the interior of the cathedral's great dome had been painted to look like a summer sky, and the illusion was nearly perfect. A golden disk gleamed at the dome's center. As she watched, a pinpoint of light formed at the center of the disk. It widened rapidly, and a beam of light shot down from the center of the dome, enveloping Ellysetta and the archbishop in a shower of golden-white radiance.

"Kneel, daughter, and say your devotions.”

Ellysetta knelt in the shining warmth of the luminary and felt her skin soak up the light. It tingled in her flesh, almost like magic. She closed her eyes and turned her face skyward towards the source high above. "Adelis, bless me. Keep me always in the Light. Shine your brightness on my path so I may never lose my way."
Help me, Lord,
she added silently.
Grant me the courage and strength to defeat the evil that hunts me.

"Marissya, Dax, Annoura-in my private chamber. Now!" King Dorian surged to his feet and swept towards the private room at the back of the Council Chamber in a billow of ceremonial robes. Fury etched his every step as he stalked away. He barely waited for the door to close before whirling on the three of them. "Is it true?" He glared at his ancestral aunt and her mate. "Have you been harboring the Dark Lord here in Celieria City, beneath my very nose?”

Marissya reached out. "Dorian, I-”

"Answer the question, damn you! And don't bother trying to weave peace on me. It will not work!”

"He came last night," Dax admitted. "But it's not what you think.”

"It's not what?" Annoura challenged. "Aiding an enemy of the crown? Abetting the murder of innocent Celierian civilians? Or do you still expect us to believe that the Eld, not the
dahl'reisen,
are responsible for the Celierian deaths in the north?”

Marissya and Dax exchanged guilty glances.

"Oh, gods," Dorian exclaimed. "He did do it. He did it, you knew it, and yet you said nothing." He stared at the pair of them as if he'd never seen them before. All his life he'd adored and idolized his legendary Fey relatives. He'd loved them even more than he'd loved his own parents. All his life he'd believed in one absolute: the honor and truth of Marissya v'En Solande.

"Dorian-" Marissya began.

"Be silent!”

"But, Dorian, the ones Gaelen killed were Mage-claimed. He swore it-by Fey oath, under
shei'dalin
touch.”

For a moment Dorian's disbelief wavered. Fey oaths were inviolable and could not be sworn on a falsehood. And a Fey oath sworn under
shei'dalin
touch ensured that not only the words but the spirit of the oath were honest and true.

"A
dahl'reisen
swore a Fey oath?" Annoura sneered. "Under
shei'dalin
touch? Don't take us for such fools.”

Dorian's jaw clenched. The brief moment of uncertainty was wiped away. "Annoura's right, Marissya. As you've told us many times before,
dahl'reisen
have set themselves beyond the bounds of Fey honor. Any oath of theirs is meaningless. And even if it weren't, the Fey would never let a
dahl'reisen
lay hands on a
shei'dalin
of the Fading Lands and live." His eyes narrowed. "Unless all that has been a lie, too.”

"Fey don't lie," Dax stated, glaring. "We may not tell you everything we know, but what we do reveal, you can be assured is truth.”

"How can I believe that now? You've both just been caught in open deception.”

"Gaelen did swear a Fey oath, Dorian," Marissya interjected. "And he did swear it under
shei'dalin
touch-my touch. Ellysetta restored his soul. He is Fey once more.”

Dorian gaped at her. "That's not possible.”

"Until last night, I would have agreed with you. Such a miracle is beyond a
shei'dalin's
power-certainly beyond mine. But apparently, it's not beyond the power of a Tairen Soul's true-mate." She took a step towards Dorian. Tears shimmered in her blue Fey eyes. "Last night, for the first time in a thousand years, I stood in my brother's presence. I embraced him. And I touched him with these hands"-she held up her hands-"while he swore a Fey oath that what he told us was true.”

Doubt crept into Dorian's eyes once more. She looked so earnest, filled with such profound joy, he wanted to weep himself.

Annoura grabbed his arm and yanked him away from the
shei'dalin.
"Leave us, Fey!" she barked. "I will speak to my husband alone. Without your sorcery influencing him.”

"Without my-?" Marissya choked back whatever words were on the tip of her tongue. She took a deep breath and visibly controlled her temper. "Dorian," she said in a much calmer voice,
"kem jita’taikonos."
Grandson of my sister's line. The appellation tugged at Dorian's emotions. She hadn't called him that in a very long time, not since he'd ascended the throne after his father's death. "Everything I've told you is true. I would never lie to you, and I would never try to manipulate your thoughts. Everything I've ever done has been to protect and help you, as I protected and helped your fathers before you. As I hope to protect and help your sons after you.”

"I don't know what to believe anymore," Dorian muttered, turning away from Marissya's outstretched hands and entreating eyes. "Please, do as my queen says. Leave us.”

Marissya's fingers curled in loose fists, and her arms fell back to her sides. Dax put a hand on her shoulder. "Come,
shei’tani.”
He gestured. The door leading back to the Council Chamber opened, and he escorted her through.

When they were gone, Annoura caught Dorian's hand. "You know you cannot believe anything the
shei'dalin
said. She lied about the Dark Lord. She hid him from you, here in your own palace, the seat of your power. The place you call home. She did that even knowing her brother was murdering Celierians in the north. You can't afford to fall for her
shei'dalin
tricks.”

"But what if she's telling the truth? Even if the Fey and the
dahl'reisen
are in collusion, what reason besides Mage-claiming would they have for killing Celierian peasants?”

She gave a short laugh. "The treaty, Dorian. Think about it. Under your leadership, Celieria has prospered and grown strong. We have become the leading power in the mortal world. Yet the moment we consider signing a treaty that would give us independence from the Fey, Celierians begin dying in the north and Rain Tairen Soul appears after a thousand-year exile to stir up fears about a reconstituted Mage threat ... a threat no one but he seems able to sense." She moved closer and took his hands. "Fear is power, darling. As long as we fear the Eld, the Fey can keep Celieria under their thumb, reliant upon them.”

Dorian had lived his life amidst the intrigues of the palace. Courtiers smiled and pledged friendship and loyalty while plotting behind one's back. Everything Annoura said made sense, and if it were any other ally but the Fey, he would unquestioningly believe them capable of such machinations. But trusting the Fey was so ingrained in him, it was practically instinct now. Even when confronted with proof that threw all his beliefs into doubt, he didn't want to think them capable of deception.

Annoura caught his face in her hands and stared earnestly into his eyes. "I know how difficult this is for you, my love, but your country needs you to be strong. You must put aside your personal feelings for the Fey and consider what is best for Celieria. Banish the Fey from the Council Chamber so they can't manipulate our minds," she urged. "Have the guard bring Gaelen vel Serranis from Old Castle, bound in as much
sel'dor
as we can find, and let him stand for questioning by the Council. Let us discover
all
the facts, not just the ones the Fey want us to know. And then let the lords vote their conscience."

The loud murmur of voices fell silent when the door to the king's private antechamber opened again. All eyes focused on King Dorian and his queen as they approached the raised dais and took their seats in the matching gold and silver thrones.

"Lord Corrias," Dorian commanded, "escort Lady Marissya, Lord Dax, and the rest of the Fey to their rooms and see that they stay there.”

"Dorian,
nei!"
Marissya protested.

He ignored her. "Send a runner to Old Castle. Have them bind vel Serranis in every ounce of
sel'dor
we possess, then bring him here, to this chamber, for questioning. The Council will reconvene in half a bell to hear the Dark Lord's testimony."

Her devotions in the luminary complete, Ellysetta knelt once more at the altar rail while Greatfather Tivrest held his golden scepter over her head and intoned the second blessing. When he was done, she rose and followed him to the large, heavily carved and gilded door that led to the Solarus. Behind her, the faint clap of Fey boots sounded against the nave's marble floors as her quintet came to stand beside the entrance to the sacred chamber.

Greatfather Tivrest harrumphed his disapproval of their presence and glared at them from beneath thick, dark brows. "You shall not enter the Solarus. Your comrade has checked it.”

"And I will check it again before the Feyreisa sets foot inside," Bel insisted. His cobalt eyes held the archbishop's glare steadily until Tivrest stepped aside in grumbling defeat.

"Enter, then," he muttered. "But only one of you as before. Touch nothing, complete your search, and get out.”

Bel bowed and entered the Solarus. Ellysetta stood waiting in the protective circle of her remaining quintet while Bel conducted his investigation. Several long chimes later, he returned. "The room is clear.”

"Beylah vo,
Bel." She laid a hand on his. "Thank you for everything." Against her calf, she felt the distinctive tingle of magic as her bloodsworn Fey'cha re-formed in secret. Taking a deep breath, she followed Greatfather Tivrest into the sacred chamber. Selianne and Lauriana followed close behind, and the great golden door swung shut.

"All right, then, Dark Lord. You've been summoned to the Council." The large, heavyset prisonmaster of Old Castle approached the holding cell containing his newest and most infamous guest. "Get in there, men, and make sure he don't flaming move.”

Carefully, their faces set and pale, a dozen guards armed with pikes and swords inched into the cell and warily surrounded vel Serranis.

"Corbin," the prisonmaster barked, "bring those chains.”

Behind him, his burly young assistant hurried forward,
sel'dor
chains rattling and clanking as he half carried, half dragged them to the cell and dropped them in a large, black pile near the door. Taking the first set of heavy ankle chains, he cautiously approached the prisoner.

"What are you waiting for? Put them on him.”

The younger man swallowed and drew even closer. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead and he carefully knelt down before the Dark Lord and reached out to clasp the first
sel'dor
manacle around the
dahl'reisen's
booted left ankle.

At the first touch of the black Eld metal, the
dahl'reisen's
leg shot off a tiny explosion of sparks. Corbin cried out and fell backward, releasing the manacles. The
sel'dor
chains fell
through
the prisoner's booted foot and landed on the straw-covered cell floor. Above it the
dahl'reisen's
boot shimmered and sparked, wavering in and out of existence.

"Gods scorch the Fey!" the prisonmaster exclaimed. He spun on his heel, snatched up a
sel'dor
chain from the pile, and whipped it towards vel Serranis's body. The prisoner's torso gave off another shower of sparks as the chain passed straight through his body. "Our prisoner's a flaming Spirit weave. We've been tricked!”

Throwing down the chain, he ran down the hall, calling to the guards. "Send word to the king! Vel Serranis has escaped!"

Bel turned to face the cathedral nave. He dragged a long breath of air into his lungs, testing the scents and tastes with every one of his Fey gifts.

"I know you're there, vel Serranis," he said to the empty air. "We're alone now. Show yourself." He took another, even deeper breath and turned to his right, facing the altar.

Scarcely a man-length away, the air began to shimmer. The white and gold marble of the great altar, covered with its blue watered-silk altar cloth, wavered. A faint shadow solidified into the fully armed, black-leather-clad figure of Gaelen vel Serranis.

"Spit and scorch me," Kieran muttered.

"How did you manage it?" Kiel demanded. "How did you break free of the
sel'dor?”

"He didn't," Bel answered. "He never let the
sel'dor
touch him.”

Gaelen cast Bel an approving glance. "Perhaps there is hope for you yet, vel Jelani.”

"How did you do it?" Kieran demanded.

His uncle shrugged. "When the Feyreisa burned herself, I used the confusion to kick the real manacles under the carriage and spin a couple of convincing weaves. The manacles the guard picked up were Spirit, as was the Gaelen vel Serranis those Celierian buffoons took into captivity." He arched a brow at the astonished quintet. "My place is at the Feyreisa's side. Surely you didn't think I would let a few overreaching mortals keep me from fulfilling my bloodsworn bond?”

"I'm surprised you didn't sneak into the Solarus with her, then," Kiel said.

Gaelen shook his head. "The Bright Bell is a sacred rite, and far more ancient than even the Celierians realize. As I am neither Ellysetta's beacon nor her priest, my presence would have been a defilement.”