King of Sword and Sky (28 page)

«Hold on, shei'tani.»

«Rain, wait. What about the Massan? Are we not going to meet them?»

«They will join us in the palace in a few bells, before the banquet to celebrate your arrival begins. For now, let them celebrate Marissya's joy and the return of the rasa, and let us enjoy what I fear will be the last chimes we will have alone for many days. I have a feeling all of Dharsa will want to greet you personally and ask for your blessing.»

Rain circled one final time over the crowds before soaring towards the palace at the top of the city's central hill to give Ellie an unimpeded view of her new home.

Wider than several Celierian city blocks, the five-sided white marble hall rose up from lush, manicured gardens. Gilded tairen rampant crouched on the rooftop at all five corners, and in their great jaws, each cat clutched a gleaming globe of Tairen's Eye crystal. A large tower capped with a golden dome rose above the center of the complex, and at its apex stood a silverstone Fey
shei'dalin
draped in rippling golden robes. Her face was upturned, her arms raised over her head, holding aloft a sixth crystal globe, larger than all the rest, that shone pure white and radiant as the sun.

«Legend says the white stone is the
kiyr
of Lissallukai, the tairen who breathed magic into the world,»
Rain told her as they circled. «
The tairen at the corners of the building represent the five makai who led their prides to follow her here.»

«And the shei'dalin and five warriors?»
Below the
shei'dalin
holding Lissallukai's soul crystal, five statues of fierce Fey warriors ringed the base of the dome. They leaned out over the edges of the tower roof into the winds, silver
seyani
swords unsheathed and clutched in their pale stone hands. Each warrior wore finely scaled armor gilded gold and silver and covered with tabards enameled in rich shades of scarlet, silvery white, rich purple, cobalt, or verdant green.

«The five branches of Fey magic, of course, and the love that gives us hope and holds Fey warriors to the Bright Path. They guard and bless the Hall of Tairen, throne room of the Feyreisen.»

On the northeast side of the dome lay a large, open courtyard sown with a green expanse of grass. They descended onto the thick grass, and Rain Changed back into the Feyreisen's ceremonial garb.

"This is beautiful," she said, looking around.

"When the prides were many, and the
makais
came to Dharsa to meet with the Feyreisen, this is where they would gather before entering the Hall of Tairen. Steli and the others will join us here tomorrow when they return to sing to the Eye."

The walls of the courtyard were covered with a mural of mosaic tiles that depicted various scenes: tairen soaring the blue skies above Fey'Bahren and Dharsa, hunting on the plains of Corunn, stalking through verdant forests, and swimming in aqua waters beside silver-sand beaches. The tiles shimmered with magic, and Rain showed her how to make the scenes come alive by turning her head. Ellysetta laughed in delight and turned her head from side to side to watch the tairen stalk and the trees rustle in a breeze.

He led her to the south wall of the courtyard, where a shimmering pool lay waiting under the southern eave. A silverstone maiden and warrior poured continuous streams of water from crystal urns into the pool, while on the wall, mosaic tairen crouched on either side and appeared to drink. Rain plucked a golden cup from a small niche beside the pool, held it under the stream of water, then offered it to Ellysetta.

The moment the water touched her lips, her eyes went wide. One small sip erased every hint of weariness and filled her with vibrant energy.
"Faerilas."
She sipped again, then drained the cup, shuddering a little at the rush of refreshing power. "But much stronger than any I've tasted yet."

"The pool is fed directly from Dharsa's Source," he told her. He filled the cup for himself when she was done. "There is no more potent
faerilas
to be found in all the Fading Lands."

"What makes it so much stronger?" She watched his throat work as he swallowed and saw the glow of his skin grow brighter as the
faerilas
renewed his magic.

"No one knows," he admitted.

Her brows rose. "Well, where do Sources get their magic?"

"No one knows that either." He drained the cup and returned it to the niche. "We
do
know that Tairen's Eye crystals lie at the heart of each Source—we discovered that when we tried to repair Lissilin—but just replacing the crystals does not rejuvenate a failed Source. There must be some other factor, some great old magic now lost to the Fey."

"Sybharukai said she smelled old magic in me."

His mouth curved up at the corner. "That did not escape me." He held out a wrist. "Come. Let me show you your new home."

Ellysetta started to put her hand on his wrist, then smiled and threaded her fingers through his instead. Fey did not hold hands. It was considered unsafe in a world where a warrior needed instant, unfettered access to his magic or steel.

"We are safe enough here," she said when he raised his brows. "There aren't many Celierian customs I prefer to Feyan, but this is one of them."

He smiled, curled his fingers loosely around hers in the Celierian way, and led her into the palace.

The palace of the Fey king was a marvel, more beautiful than anything Ellysetta had seen yet in this most wondrous of all Fey cities. Golden doors, white marble stone floors, soaring cathedral-like ceilings, walls covered with bright tapestries that depicted Fey wars and legends long lost to the rest of the world. Long drapes of rich fabric framed glassless windows that opened to terraces overlooking breathtaking city vistas.

Everywhere there was magic, from the shimmering mosaics of the tairen courtyard, to the fountains of
faerilas
splashing in every courtyard within the palace walls, to the cleaning weaves that whisked away the slightest smudge of grime or dust, leaving every inch of the palace gleaming with Fey perfection.

Ellysetta was actually surprised to find that the palace had kitchens. Quite large ones, too, and filled with dozens of real, live Fey women and even Fey lords, industriously baking, chopping, and kneading a staggering array of food in preparation for tonight's feast. They all paused to greet her warmly before returning to work.

"Why don't they just…" She wiggled her fingers. "You know."

Rain laughed. "Certainly, there is some of that," he told her, "but a fine meal is like a song, art that is meant to be consumed by the senses. Besides, what pleasure is there to life if you never create anything with your own hands?"

Ellie raised a skeptical brow. She'd spent one too many hours laboring at the monotony of cooking, cleaning, and housework to consider it a pleasure.

"Perhaps you will change your mind after you've lived your first hundred years," Rain suggested. "Magic is just a tool, not a replacement for the experiences and accomplishments of life. Forget that, and the pursuit of magical perfection will become all that matters, and the Fey will follow the same dark path as the Eld."

After leaving the kitchens, they continued on past banquet halls, conservatories, rooms of state, the palace library, and the king's private courtyard and offices. Room after beautiful room, each a treasure in its own right.

From his well-appointed offices, Rain led her down a small corridor to the king's personal armory. There, displayed on three tall stands in a sconce-lit alcove, was the war armor of the Fey king.

Made entirely of gleaming golden-hued steel, the armor consisted of a woven chain mail, a complete set of Fey blades whose hilts were embossed with the purple tairen rampant, seal of the Fey king, and protective plate mail made of golden steel and layers of hardened and embossed black leather.

"The king's armor was made in the Time Before Memory," Rain told her. "Passed down from Feyreisen to Feyreisen since Tevan Fire Eyes, the first Tairen Soul of the Fading Lands."

"I'm surprised it has never been damaged or lost," Ellysetta said. "Fey kings have certainly fought in many terrible wars over the centuries."

"There is a repair spell forged into the steel, and a return weave that brings the king's armor back to this room if the Tairen Soul wearing it dies."

He approached the center stand, where the shining black and gold of the king's armor gleamed like shadows and sunlight. Across the black leather, tooled in gold and silver, were symbols surrounded by a varying number of circles. His fingers brushed over them without touching. "These are the name symbols of every Defender of the Fey who ever donned this armor and led the Fey into battle. The rings indicate how long each reigned. One silver ring for every hundred years, one gold ring for every millennium."

She stepped closer, peering at the symbols. No name had more than one gold ring, and very few had both gold and silver. "Where is your name?"

"It is not there." At her surprised look, he explained, "Only those who have worn the armor have their name set upon it. I never have. Johr Feyreisen died at the Garreval, only a few days before I scorched the world. The armor returned to Dharsa, and I couldn't leave the battle to retrieve it."

"You've never even tried it on since then? Just to see how it fits?"

In a voice both soft and grave, he said, "This is the war armor of the Fey king, Ellysetta. The moment a Feyreisen puts it on his body, he commits the Fading Lands to war, and he commits himself to one of only two fates: victory or death. Only then can the armor be returned to this room, and only then can the Fey cease fighting." Her horror must have shown in her eyes, because he gave her a bleak smile. "War is no game to the Fey,
shei'tani,
and surrender is no option."

Barely conscious of doing so, she gripped his arm and pulled him away from the gleaming gold-and-black armor, tugging him towards the armory door. "Then I pray your name will never be inscribed there." But they both knew it soon would be.

From the armory, Rain led Ellysetta back to the wide gallery that opened into the tairen courtyard where her palace tour had begun. Bel, Gaelen, Tajik, Gil, and Rijonn were waiting in the courtyard. They had changed from warriors' leathers to rich robes for the evening's celebrations, and were all grinning proudly and discussing the highlights of the Feyreisa's procession and her overwhelming welcome by the Fey.

Before Rain and Ellysetta could join them, Marissya and Dax entered the far end of the gallery, followed by the five Lords of the Massan and their truemates.

Rain quickly stifled his brief, instinctive surge of aggression and greeted the Massan.
"Meivelei,
Fey." Putting a hand in the small of Ellysetta's back, he ushered her forward. "With pride this Fey presents to you his
shei'tani,
Ellysetta of Celieria. Ellysetta, these are the honored Fey lords of the Massan, the council that governs the Fading Lands."

Rain clasped the forearm of the first Massan, a silvery blond Water master with eyes the same deep blue-violet as the waters off the black cliffs of the Bay of Flames. "This fine Fey is Loris v'En Mahr—Water master of the Massan—and his
shei'tani,
Nalia."

Rain smiled when genuine welcome filled Loris's eyes, then laughed when golden-haired Nalia took Ellysetta's hand and dragged her into a warm embrace as if they were sisters, long separated. Nalia had that sort of way about her. Loris might be the Water, full of secret depths and unseen currents, but Nalia was both the wind that drove him and the rock that stood firm against even his most furious waves. What Nalia wanted, Nalia got. Thank the gods what she wanted was usually best for all.

"Meivelei,
little sister," Nalia greeted. "Welcome. Long have we truemates of the Massan prayed the gods would bring our king peace. And now you have come." Nalia pulled back to give Ellysetta a searching look. "Word of your miraculous weaves reached us days ago, as did rumors of your brightness, and I can see now none of it was exaggeration." A dazzling smile beamed across Nalia's face, and she clasped Ellysetta tight again.

After a brief hesitation and a slightly dazed glance at Rain, Ellysetta returned the hug.

"Let her breathe,
kem'alia,"
Loris chided, touching his mate's arm. "She is used to
shei'dalin
restraint, not your exuberance."

Nalia laughed, unoffended, and pulled back.
"Sieks'ta,
Feyreisa. I forget myself. Long ago, when I was a child, my mother would shake her head and sigh in fear of what havoc I would wreak on the world. She always thanked the gods for sending me Loris. He smoothed the worst of my rough edges."

"She should have been named Nimshorra, the whirlwind, instead of Nimalia, the windflower," Loris said with a fond look for his mate.

Rain touched Ellysetta's elbow lightly and directed her attention to the next matepair. "And this is Nurian v'En Soma, Spirit master, and his
shei'tani,
Sianna. Nurian is a very old friend and bond kinsman. Sariel was the daughter of his cousin."

"Las
te miora a
vo,
Feyreisa," Lord Nurian murmured. "Peace and joy upon you." The Spirit master and his mate were as dark as Loris and Nalia were fair. Lord Nurian bowed, the folds of his robes swirling gracefully about him, while his
shei'tani,
Sianna, smiled warmly enough but kept her hands clasped firmly at her waist. She was not half so effervescent as Nalia.